Chip 'n Dale Rescue Rangers: Due South
by Disneyguy23
Summary: The Rescue Rangers are called south to the state of Tennessee, to investigate a string of accidents on the small animal racing circuit. But are they really accidents...?
1. Chapter 1

**Chip 'n Dale Rescue Rangers**

**Due South: A Novella**

Welcome again to the world of Chip 'n Dale and the Rescue Rangers. This story is a sequel to the previous works 'Meeting with Destiny' 'A Christmas to Remember' and 'Generations'. In this fourth installment of 'The Continuing Adventures of the Rescue Rangers', Chip, Dale and company are called south to Tennessee to investigate a string of accidents on the small animal racing circuit…the only problem is, they may not be accidents. Can the Rangers crack the case before time runs out?

**Prologue: Race to the Finish**

March 28, 1991. Newport, Tennessee.

"And the Twenty-Third Annual Small Animal Racing Season is hereby declared…open!" the announcer declared, his homemade megaphone booming across the clearing. Below, on a carefully cut out dirt road, a line of hand-built vehicles roared to life, their various kinds of engines filling the air with mechanical noise. Electric motors vied against fuel engines that ran on everything from gasoline to waste oil. Some of the finest mechanical minds in the Southern small animal community sat behind the wheels of their individual creations, waiting for the chance to prove their mettle. A tall, slim mouse in a colorful referee's uniform stood between the two rows of vehicles. Holding a green flag in one hand, and a checkered one in the other, she raised them into the air. After pausing for just a moment, she smiled widely, and dropped the flags to knee level.

Engines roared, and the drivers sped away down the track, tires and wheels kicking up dirt in their wake.

"And the number five car is flying into the lead!" the announcer shouted. "They're coming into lap number two of the qualifying heat, ladies and gentlemen!"

Tires screamed as the contestants rounded the bend. Drivers were either praising their cars or cursing their luck. The number five, affectionately known on the circuit as 'Greased Lightning', was looking like a sure winner. The driver, a dark-furred squirrel named Billy, was ecstatic.

"Looks like another first row spot for Lightning, boys!" he called to his crew over the miniature CB radio.

The group of mechanics and electronics specialists cheered, passing around handshakes. The watched in elation as the number five came around the final lap.

And exploded.

In the crowd, children screamed as the vehicle's burning wreckage skidded across the finish line and smashed into the retaining wall. On the track, the crew raced out behind a team of hamster medics. Billy's friends watched in silence as a small version of what humans called the 'jaws of life' were employed, prying the frame of the burning dune-buggy apart. As they dragged the unconscious driver away from his car, the rest of the fuel in his patented engine caught fire, turning the chassis into a raging inferno.

"How is he?" the crew chief asked, in a fearful voice.

One of the medics shook his head in amazement.

"This boy's got one hard head, I'll tell ya that. He'll make it."

All those present sighed in relief.

"I tell you, fellows, I thought it was the end for 'ol Billy. Somethin's got to be done about these accidents! If that's what they really are."

"What're you sayin', Robert?" one of the others asked the head mechanic.

"I'm sayin' I think we got some foul play goin' on here. And I don't mean by no birds, neither. We need some help. 'Cause if somebody don't find out what's goin' on pretty soon, they're gonna cancel the races. I can feel it."

"But where we gonna find somebody that can do anythin' about it?"

"Well, it had to happen sometime, guys, but I think for this one, we gotta go north."

March 31, 1991. New York City, Central Park.

Moonlight streamed through the small window, and into Chip and Gadget Maplewood's bedroom. The light momentarily silhouetted the two sleeping figures there, and a sense of peace and tranquility impressed itself onto the entire scene.

That is, until a piercing cry split the air, immediately digging into Chip's ears. He rolled over, and gently shook Gadget.

"Gadge? Sweetheart, it's your turn."

Groaning, she pried her eyes open, looking at the watch that hung on the wall.

"Oh for crying out…it's four in the morning, Mariel!" she muttered. Throwing back the covers, she eased out of bed, trying to ignore the soreness in her back.

"I swear, parenting and casework combined are going to kill me."

Holding onto the wall with one hand, and rubbing the sleep from her eyes with the other, Gadget made her way to the room next door, where the sound was coming from. The small, lavender trimmed crib that resided there was the obvious source of the racket. She reached into it, and lifted out Mariel, she and Chip's daughter. The eight-month-old had grown like a sunflower, height-wise and weight-wise. Gadget hefted her little girl up to her shoulder, speaking in a soothing voice.

"There, there, now. What's the matter, little one? Hungry again?"

As the cries continued, she closed the door behind her, and walked out to the kitchen. She was glad it was situated on the ground floor of Rescue Ranger Headquarters, because there was no way she could have climbed stairs at the moment. Working with one hand, as she held Mariel with the other, she started warming a bottle.

"Wot's this then, the little dodger at it again?" Monterey Jack asked, walking into the room in his nightshirt. Gadget sighed, nodding.

"Yeah. She's been up five times tonight. I don't know what to do."

"Well now, you just leave it to 'ol Monterey Jack. C'mere, luv," he said, taking the wailing infant from Gadget's grasp. Instantly, the child fell silent, gurgling and mumbling happily. Her mother was amazed. Something in the big Australian mouse's rough and tumble touch always seemed to soothe the beast in Mariel. Chip laughingly blamed it on their being kindred spirits: always making too much noise about something or other. Monty took the bottle from a visibly grateful Gadget, who began to shuffle back to bed.

Well, she was about to, had somebody not started pounding on the front door.

"What? Who…at this hour?" she wondered, walking back into the living room.

"Coming!" she yelled as the fierce knocking continued. She turned the latches, and threw the door open. Out on the hangar branch stood a massively built opossum, hat in hand.

"Beg pardon about th' ungodly hour, ma'am, but is this here Rescue Ranger Headquarters?"

"Yes…yes, it is," she answered, noting the thick accent. Kentucky…maybe Tennessee? She shook off the questions flitting about inside her brain.

"Can we help you?"  
"Well, if you'uns want ta stop somebody from getting killed for us, then I reckon you can."

The sleep instantly cleared from the mouse's brain, and she snapped alert.

"What's your name?" she asked, slipping a robe on over her nightgown. The opossum politely averted his eyes, looking back up a moment later, after she had tied the garment's belt.

"Name's Robert Daniels. I'm the crew chief fer Billy Moss's racin' team, outta Newport, Tennessee. Th' season just started, y'know…well, naturally you know, I'm guessin' yer a fan."

"Umm…how did you know that?" she asked, impressed. The big 'possum grinned.

"Well ma'am, seein' as how you've got this week's copy of 'Rally Driver' tucked inta yer robe pocket, I just assumed."

Gadget colored slightly, embarrassed that someone had openly seen her little obsession. Besides planes, there was one other thing that she and every other mechanic loved…a race between two or more cars.

"Well I am a fan. Billy Moss is the guy with the methane powered stock car, right?"  
"If'n you mean it runs on cow manure, then yessum, he is. Only Billy ain't goin' ta be able to run the main races in a couple weeks."  
"Oh? What happened?"  
"He had a purty bad crash up a couple days ago. Car's ruined. Only thing is…don't none of us on the crew think it was no accident."

Her mind kicked into high gear, already calculating the amount of fuel and travel time for the Rangers' vehicles.

"You suspect foul play?"  
"Yessum, I do. Been suspectin' it since the start. But we got nobody down there that's good at solvin' this sort of thing. Local sheriff's about as useful as…"

He curbed his tongue, seeing Gadget's curious expression.

"Sorry, ma'am, forgot I was talkin' to lady for a minute, there. Anyways, we need some help with this, or it's gonna ruin all of us!"

"Well, I can't speak for the Rangers, or not all of them, anyway, but I think this is something we definitely should look into."  
Ringing a mounted bell next to the door, she shouted at the top of her lungs.

"Red alert, everybody! We've got a case!"


	2. Chapter 2: Gone Country

**Chapter I: Gone Country**

As dawn woke the silent and windy city into a fervor, the kitchen of Ranger HQ was filled with creatures, all seeking the percolator with much fervor. Gadget was sitting at the counter, listening with rapt attention, her customary cup of black sludge miraculously forgotten. Robert regaled the group with the history of his problem, and the problem of the entire racing circuit.

"Some weeks back, when th' pre-season trials started, people started havin' these weird…accidents. Motors'd blow, exhausts'd clog mysteriously, all routine stuff…exceptin' of course, that all of these started happenin' too close together, if ya take my meanin'."

"I think so," Gadget said. "Oh, excuse me a minute."

She left the room, and came back in toting Mariel in one arm, soothing the irritable infant, who had taken a crying spell again. Robert brightened visibly.

"Say now, ya'll never said ya had no youngster! Cute little thang, ain't she?"

"Takes after 'er mothah," Monty said with pride.

"Thanks," Chip replied, looking a bit sour.

Gadget merely grinned at this exchange, knowing that Chip wasn't really angry. He was just grumpy, trying to get the case rolling in his brain.

"So who has a motive to be doing this?" she asked casually.

"Well, more'n a few. We got Farnsworth Douglas, th' packrat that drives the number twenty-seven car. His daddy was the big winner in the old days, always comin' in just in th' nick of time to win. Unfortunately, ol' Farny ain't been that lucky. His team ain't had a solid win in three seasons."

"Golly, that could be a reason, I'd say."

"Then, there's Jeremiah Jackson, the gerbil driver from Knoxville. He's been a friend of nobody's since a crash earlier in the trials stranded him. He's just been hangin' around, bemoanin' his troubles to anybody and ever'body who'd listen."

"Sounds like a promising start to the suspects list," Chip mused. "What we need is an in, a way to blend into the crowd."  
Gadget looked thoughtful, and a smile began to grow on her face.

"I have an idea," she said. "And golly, is it a doozy!"

"Well, spill it, lass," Monty edged, eager to find some action.

"We take the Rangerbolt, disguise it as a race entry, and put it into the race for Billy's team! Everybody will think it's Team Moss's new entry, and we can have free access to the premises!"

"Gadget, that has to be the most…brilliant and yet indescribably dangerous scheme you've ever come up with," Tammy chuckled.

"Well, we do seem to be good at going incognito, so I figured that we could pull it off."  
"Ain't but one problem, missy," Robert said. "They ain't nobody from north of th' Mason-Dixon line ever entered these races. An' not to be offensive or nothin', but you ain't exactly gonna pass as a pony-tailed, grits-eatin' southern girl yourself."

Gadget merely grinned, and sat back in her chair nonchalantly.

"What, y'mean ya'll can't believe that I wasn't originally a belle o' Charleston?"

Chip looked at his wife in shock, not recognizing the syrupy voice that had just poured from her mouth. She shrugged.

"Dad and I spent a summer living in Georgia when I was a teenager. I kinda picked up the accent."

"An' how!" Robert laughed. "I coulda swore that was Atlanta drippin' off this girl's tongue! You might just pull it off, after all. But you'uns will have ta let Miss Gadget here do all th' talkin'."

"She usually does anyway," Tammy mumbled. She looked up innocently at Gadget's reproving expression.

"What?"  
"Look at the ears, young lady. They're not there for nothing."

"So that's why they're so big," Tammy jibed back good-naturedly.

"Ladies, ladies," Sparky intervened. "Now is neither the time nor the place."

"Oh please, Spark," Gadget laughed, "it's all in good fun. Now come on, I need some help getting some parts before we start laying out trip plans. The Rangerbolt is fast, but if it's going to be competition-worthy, it needs that new high-performance carburetor I've been meaning to build."

"I think its high time I saw this here Rangerbolt I been hearin' so much about," Robert said with interest.

"Sure thing!" Gadget smiled, eager to show off one of her creations. "Come on down to the garage. Oh, and Monty, make sure that percolator keeps going, it's going to be a long day."

"Wheeee-doggies!" Rob exclaimed upon seeing the Rangers' high-speed transport. "A '69 Charger! Where in thunderation did ya'll come up with this!"

"Model kit, with a few obvious…adjustments," Gadget said with pride, popping the hood. Underneath the sheet metal lay her pride and joy. A miniature high performance V-8, built by hand. It would have measured in at 440 cubic inches in human scale. Gadget tossed the opossum mechanic the keys.

"Start it up!"

Grinning from ear to ear, Rob slid into the driver's seat, and turned the ignition. With a throaty rumble, the big engine stirred to life, filling the garage with it's loud voice.

"Mmmmm-hmm!" Rob said. "Now that there's a fine piece o' work."

"Thanks. Think it's got a chance of being a winner?"  
"If'n she runs as good as she sounds, then I don't see why in th' world not!"

Gadget, in the manner of the racing drivers she had seen, lifted her feet and slid through the passenger window, settling comfortably and buckling herself in.

"It needs a good shakedown anyway. Let's go for a ride."  
"Honest? You mean it?"  
"Sure! What inventor wouldn't relish the opportunity for a real crew chief to critique her work?"

A smile plastered on his face that only a 'possum can affect, Rob slammed his door shut and gunned the engine. Grasping the Hearst-style shifter, he brought the transmission down through it's gears, and as the tree's automatic garage door slid open, he pressed the gas pedal to the floor. The rear tires screamed against the polished wooden floor, and the car shot out into the open like a bullet. Passers-by in the park would only think that someone was playing with a remote-control toy, unless they took time to look a little closer, upon which they would see a deliriously happy 'possum driving, with an equally thrilled mouse passenger.

"She handles like nothin' I ever seen!" Rob yelled through the wind that whistled past the open windows.

"Doesn't she though!" Gadget laughed. She looked ahead, and her elation abruptly left her.

"Slow down, Rob! There's a fallen branch up ahead!"

"No time!" he called, and pressed the gas harder.

"What are you doing!"  
"Somethin' I saw Billy do once. Hope it works!"

The big motor revved at a fevered pace, and seconds later, the front wheels struck the downed tree limb. At the intense rate of speed, the car lifted into the air, flying over the obstacle like it had been thrown. The Rangerbolt seemed suspended in midair for a moment, before the wheels again met the ground, the impact knocking Gadget's teeth together painfully. Running her tongue around her mouth, she thankfully found no breaks.

"Are you all right?" she asked Rob, worriedly.

"Yeah…I'm fine, just a little shook up."  
"Good," she replied, and then began flailing at him with a rolled up blueprint. "If you ever do a harebrained thing like that again, so help me I'll toss you off the hangar branch!"

"Okay, okay! Gee whillikers, woman, calm down!"

Depositing the blueprint back where she had found it, Gadget thanked Providence for the fact that she'd installed harness seat belts. She managed a small grin.

"Well, if it can take that, then I'm sure it's up to a Tennessee rally!"

As she said the words, something groaned underneath the car, and the steering went limp in Robert's hands.   
"Hang on!" he said, trying to maintain control. They skidded sideways, sliding on the park's bed of fallen leaves, and finally collided side-first with a nearby tree.

"That went well," the opossum said, dizzily. "You all right, Miss Gadget?"

"Ask me when my eyes uncross," she managed to get out. They climbed out through the driver's side door, and Gadget began to survey the damage. The passenger side of the car was a wreck, the die-cast sheet metal crumpled and banged thoroughly. The roll bars inside had saved the occupants from any real injury, but the body would need some major repair. Reaching inside, Gadget flipped on the radio that hung beneath the dash.

"Rangerbolt to HQ, come in."

'Wot's the trouble, luv?' Monty's voice replied.

"Well, um…we need a tow."

'Oh croikey, wot'd you do?"

"We kinda hit a tree."

'Oi'll send th' boys out with th' Rangermobile. Sit tight.'

Back at the garage, the damage to the Rangers' main set of wheels was evident. Rob was visibly upset, wringing his hat in his hands.  
"I'll never live this'un down, ya'll. I'm sorry fer wreckin' it, believe me I am."

"Don't worry, Rob," Gadget consoled. "If it hadn't been for your quick thinking, we might have been flattened against that fallen log, anyway. This is nothing I can't fix. Besides, I needed to make a few adjustments and disguise it, anyway!"

"Umm…disguise it?" Chip asked. "Just what are you intending to do, Gadget?"

"Oh, you'll just have to wait and see. Better plan to have dinner without me tonight, this is going to be a long job."

"Kinda like every night lately," he muttered. Gadget's keen ears caught the edge of the remark.  
"What was that?"

"Nothing," he said, walking up the stairs toward the living room. Gadget cast a worried glance around to the rest of the group, then set her jaw in determination.

"I'll be right back. I've got something to straighten out."

Upstairs, Chip was sitting on the couch, his eyes fastened on the evening news, fedora tipped back in customary fashion. He didn't move when the door slammed loudly. He didn't seem to notice, although he did, when Gadget came to stand beside him, arms crossed.

"All right, spill it."

"Excuse me?" he asked innocently, finally looking up at her.

"Don't feed me a line, Chip. What's bothering you?"

"Oh I'm not bothered, just because I haven't seen my wife across the dinner table in what seems like weeks, the only time we really get to spend together is changing diapers, and now her attention seems to be monopolized by a southern boy with a taste for motor oil!"

Her eyes widened with every point he named off, and she stiffened slightly at the last one.

"I don't believe it. You're jealous."

He didn't reply.  
"You are actually honest-to-goodness jealous. And what is this about spending time? You know we've had wall to wall cases the past couple of months. And raising Mariel is our responsibility!"  
Chip maintained his stony silence for a minute longer, and then deflated slightly. He reached for Gadget's hand, and pulled her down next to him.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. That wasn't fair. None of it was."

She slipped her arm around his neck.

"Some of it was. Maybe I've been spending too many nights in the workshop lately. And maybe I have paid a little too much attention to Rob. But its just because he's a kindred spirit. You're my husband, Chip. Nothing's going to change that."

"I know. Guess I just gave in to insecurity there for a bit."

She reached up and ruffled the fur at his neck fondly, in the way she knew he liked.

"Well, I think when this case is over, the Rangers are going to have some vacation time. We'll already be in a beautiful locale. We can wrap up the case, and then go find a campsite."

"Sounds like a winner to me. Sorry about the way I acted."  
"It's okay. We've both been overworked. Let's just try and do our job a little longer."

That evening, the Rangers entertained their guest with stories of cases past, and stories of more than a few blunders on cases past. All except Gadget, that is. She was hard at work on the Rangerbolt's facelift. The banging and hammering of metal against metal could be heard all over the tree as she pulled dents from the body and reshaped the fenders into their original conformity. It took her till midnight to right the damage caused by the crash earlier that day. Tired, but satisfied, she sat back on her heels, looking at the vehicle that would now become her canvas.

"We need a convincing disguise," she said, thinking aloud. "Something regional, something with heritage, something…something…"

Suddenly, she noticed an old poster hanging on the garage wall, which showcased another 1969 Charger. A wide grin painted itself on her face.

"Something like that!"

Reaching for her hand-built paint gun, she strapped a mask onto her face, and pulled her goggles down, setting to work.

As the hours passed, the Rangerbolt changed, from it's customary glossy black, to a bright, vibrant orange. On each door, the number '01' was now proudly painted. Across the roof, the red, white and blue colors of the old southern Confederacy splashed brightly into being. In the wee hours of the morning, when she had finished, Gadget stood back, and admired her work.

"The only thing missing is an air horn that plays 'Dixie'," she laughed. "But that might be a touch over the top."

Putting away her tools, she trudged upstairs and collapsed onto the couch, asleep almost before she hit the cushions.

"Where's Gadget?" Monterey asked at breakfast. "It's not like th' little sheila ta miss the coffee."  
"She's passed out on the couch, sleepin' like a rock," Dale said, walking in with the morning paper. "She musta pulled some all nighter, fixing up the Rangerbolt."

"Let her sleep," Chip replied. "She's earned it. We'll start getting ready to leave this evening. Everybody else needs to rest as much as possible, too. We're going to travel by night, so we can look like a surprise entry at the rally. Gadget and Tammy will take the Rangerbolt, and everyone else will follow with the planes. And remember, stick to the characters you've picked, unless we're all together! We can't afford to blow our cover."

"I'm more worried about the car blowin', than the cover," Rob said worriedly. The words hung ominously in the kitchen, but the Rangers paid them no heed, preparing for the departure, and their impending investigation.


	3. Chapter 3: Tennessee Rally

**Chapter II: Tennessee Rally**

The day passed uneventfully for the Rangers, as they were all busy at their respective tasks. Chip had finally woken Gadget around noon, receiving a thorough reprimand for letting her sleep so long.

"I'm a Hackwrench, Chip, I can get by without sleep when I have to. I've done it before."  
"Gadget, remember what happened to Dale, the last time he went out on a case without a night's sleep?"

She thought for a minute, and turned slightly green.

"Come to think of it, maybe a nap wasn't such a bad idea after all."

"You know it," he said, his tone a little lighter. "Did you finish up the Rangerbolt?"  
"Oh, yeah I did. But I'm not going to show it to you till Tammy and I rendezvous with the rest of you at the races. It's a surprise!"  
"I can hardly wait," he replied, a little nervously.

"Oh, don't be a spoilsport, Chip," she said. "You'll like it, I think. Really fits in with the locale that we'll be operating out of."

He put his arms around her, and drew her in close.

"You going to be okay, driving down by yourself?"  
"Of course I will. And I won't be alone, I'll have Tammy with me. You know we have to do it this way, for the ruse to work."

"I know. It's just that, with us having so much casework lately, and the way I snapped at you last night…I just hate to be away from you for long."  
"You're really sappy when you want to be, you know that, mister? But I love it about you. Besides, my bags are packed, the Rangerbolt is loaded, and we've still got a couple of hours before we leave. So let's make the best of them, shall we?"

"I'm for that."  
Chip reached over, and flicked on a small radio set that Gadget had built. It was tuned to a classical music station, and she snuggled against him as Mozart flowed from the speaker. They were still in that position when Tammy and Reguba came looking for them, several hours later.

"Okay, have you guys got all the standard equipment packed? Harpoon guns, grapples, you know?"

"We've got everything, Gadget luv," Monty replied. "Don't worry your pretty head."

All of the Rangers were standing assembled on the hangar branch, doing final checks. Chip climbed into the Rangerwing's cockpit, and started the engines, letting them idle and warm up. Gadget climbed up to stand on the wing, and kissed him.

"We'll meet you at the track's registration booth. Rob will show you where it is. Be careful, Chip. The overdrive's been acting a little finicky, I haven't had time to check it out."

"We'll watch it. I'm sure we can get there fast enough without it."

"I know, but I always like to have a contingency plan, you know? Still, if you don't push it, it should work with…"  
"Don't say it!" Tammy yelled, covering her ears.

Gadget looked puzzled, and then realized.

"Sorry about that," she giggled. "Okay, guys, off you go. I've got a couple of things to take care of yet. Martha's going to keep Mariel for a few days, so we should be fine. See you in the south!"

With a rumble and the whir of rotor blades, the Rangerwing rose into the air, followed by the Screaming Eagle. Both craft sped away from the tree at top speed, leaving Gadget and Tammy standing in front of the hangar, watching. The young squirrel looked at her friend, and smiled.

"Well, girlfriend, shall we go an' git kitted out?"

Gadget shook her head.

"Best leave the talking to me, Tam. You still need a lot of practice."

"Gee, thanks."

A few minutes later, with their last minute additions to their luggage loaded, Tammy and Gadget walked downstairs to the garage. At the sight of the Rangerbolt, Tammy drew up short.

"Oh, my God. I don't believe you actually did it."

Gadget grinned widely.  
"What can I say? The General never looked so good."

"I can't believe I'm actually doing this," Tammy muttered. "Oh well, when in Rome."  
With that, she grasped the top edge of the window frame, lifted her feet, and slid into the car.

"Done like a pro," Gadget said, sliding into the driver's side. "It's just as well. I had to weld the doors, to keep up appearances."  
"Terrific."

"Don't sound so glum, Tammy. I know you're going to enjoy this every bit as much as I am, in spite of being on a case. Now remember, we have to be in character when we get there. Think Thelma and Louise."

"Didn't they die at the end of that movie?"  
Gadget thought for a moment.  
"Well…okay, point conceded. But you know what I mean."

"I think so. As they say on TV, hit it, cousin!"

Gadget turned the key, and the Rangerbolt came to life with a throaty rumble, all eight cylinders thrumming in a time that was almost musical to a mechanic. Gadget could never suppress a childish urge to spin the back tires whenever she sat behind the wheel. She shifted down, and stepped on the accelerator, sending them careening out into the park, and toward their case.

Later on in the day, Gadget was beginning to wish that they'd strapped the car underneath one of the planes, and flown. They'd get there a lot faster. Tammy was staring out the passenger window, tapping her foot to the sound of Alan Jackson coming from the radio.

"I didn't know you liked country music, Tam."  
"Neither did I. But this guy's pretty good, I think."

"I know, I saw him in person once."  
"Really?"

"Yeah. It was that summer that Dad and I spent in Georgia. I slipped off to an outdoor concert, and he was in it. I sat on his guitar amplifier and listened the entire time. I know he saw me, but he just smiled and kept on playing. Who knows, maybe he's a speaker."

"Maybe."  
Such idle chat was sidelined as Gadget's keen eyes picked up a solution to their current problem.

"Hey, do you see that?" she asked.

"I do believe I do," Tammy said, pointing at a transfer truck that had a side label reading: 'Newport, Tennessee'.

"Shall we board, Thelma?"  
"Yes, let's, Louise."

As the truck's driver walked away to pick up his bill of lading, Gadget motored smoothly up the loading ramp, and tucked the Rangerbolt neatly behind a stack of crates. She killed the engine, and reclined the seat, propping her feet on the dash.  
"Wake me when we get there," she yawned, pulling her goggles down.

Some hours later, the two Rangers were jolted from slumber as the big truck groaned to a stop. Gadget blinked, trying to clear the sleep from her eyes.

"Wha? Where are we?"  
"I'll check," Tammy volunteered, climbing out of the car, and scurrying up a pile of packing crates. Peeking out a small light cover, she saw that they had pulled into a truckstop. A sign on the nearby interstate proudly proclaimed,

'Tennessee Welcomes You.'

She dove back down the crates, and into the Rangerbolt.

"I think this is our stop. Time to get off the bus."  
"Roger wilco."  
Gadget cranked the motor, and rolled slowly to the rear doors. A good nudge from the ram bars on the grill was enough to open the door catch, as it hadn't been closed properly.

"Well, this is all well and good," Tammy said. "But how do we get down?"

"I haven't gotten that far yet."  
"Wonderful."  
Suddenly, there was a loud crash as the loading ramp slid out of it's recessed bay, and struck the ground. Gadget gestured toward the long strip of metal, and recited the words her father had taught her as a child.

"Seek and ye shall find, ask and it shall be given unto you."

"Amen."  
The brightly colored stock car rolled easily to the ground, and the driver floored it, wanting to put as much distance between them and the truck as possible, before the owner returned.

"How far into Newport is the racetrack?" Gadget asked. Tammy consulted a road map, and looked ahead.

"If we're where I think we are, then the track should be around three miles from here. That way."  
"Good. This gives us a chance to stop and change."

"Change?"  
"Into the…well, costumes that we brought."  
Tammy looked down at the pink shirt and rolled up jeans she was wearing.

"What's wrong with my clothes?"

"Nothing! It's just that, well, we'll be expected to have a certain appearance."  
"We have to look like babes, in other words."  
"You said it, not me."

The squirrel sighed.  
"Okay. According to this Tennessee map, there's a little mouse Mom and Pop filling station just around this next corner. There'll probably be a couple of bathrooms there where we can affect our transformation."  
"Affect our transformation? Why Tammy, you're starting to sound all grown up!"  
"What, you expected me to be a kid forever?"

A few minutes later, they rolled into the small fuel stop, and Gadget stopped at the miniature above ground tanks.

"Fill 'er up," she said to the attendant, who was staring open-mouthed at the Rangerbolt. The teenaged mouse rubbed his eyes, and looked again.

"Wow, I didn't know that Duke cousins came in our size!"  
"Cute. Our fuel, please?"

As she climbed out, she discovered that his gaze had shifted from the car to her, and a low whistle escaped unbidden from his lips. Smiling demurely, she leaned over and whispered in his ear.

"I'm married. So keep your eyes on your work."

"Oh! Um…sorry 'bout that, ma'am," he said, a red flush rising all the way to his ears.

"It's okay. I remember what a teenager's hormones are like."

Walking into the small store, she and Tammy were greeted by an elderly field mouse, who was running the counter. Several other teenagers were sitting around, sipping at sodas, and taking turns staring out at the small Charger which sat at the pumps.  
"Man, are those American Vectors it's got?"  
"Shoot, what else you think'd be on a Dodge, knucklehead!"

"Bet it cain't beat that buggy that 'ol Billy Moss lost over to the track."  
"Achally, we're the new entry for Billy," Gadget supplied, allowing her tongue to roll into the practiced accent. Putting her weight on one leg, she leaned back against the counter, in the pose that she'd observed other southern girls use. "Name's Cooper. Thelma Cooper. An' that's my relief driver, Louise Benson. We call her Thunder around th' garage, though."  
"Why's that?" a young squirrel asked, sizing Tammy up. Gadget grinned.

"Cause if you step outta line, she can tap-dance up a storm on your head, plowboy. Now where's the facilities, if ya don't mind?"

"T-t-t-to the l-left of th' cooler," he stammered in reply. She smiled sweetly, and picked up her travel bag.

"Wasn't that laying it on a bit thick?" Tammy asked, as they closed the restroom door behind them.  
"Maybe, but I've found that if you start building a reputation early, it can help you later on. Now hurry up, the guys are there waiting, I know."

At the Newport Small Animal Rally Track, Chip and the other Rangers had arrived at the registration booth, and were filling out forms for Team Moss's vehicular and crew changes. Rob was doing most of the conversation, as his friends were still practicing their drawls. Nobody had it perfect yet.

"Thanks fer expeditin' th' papers, Florence," he said, taking a sheaf of forms from a short gopher, who was sitting behind the desk.

"No problem, sweety. You know I always pull fer Billy's team. But where's yer entry?"  
"It oughta be along anytime now," he said. Just as he got the words out, shouts and exclamations could be heard from the trail that led into the track camp.

"That's probly them now. Let's head over, fellas."

At the car display area, there was considerable commotion. Drivers and crew alike whistled and marveled. Rolling slowly, General Lee made it's way to Team Moss's pit stall. As the loudly rumbling engine was silenced, the drivers made themselves known.

From the driver's side, a beautiful blonde mouse pulled herself up and through the window. Her low-heeled boots hit the dirt with a thud, and she appraised the other drivers with a well-trained eye. Dressed in a shirt that was tied at the midriff, and a pair of cutoff jeans, she drew every stare present. Her companion, a striking squirrel, sauntered to the front of the car, sporting a short denim jacket and a well-worn pair of hip-hugger Levi's.

Tammy cut her eyes in Gadget's direction, and spoke quietly through her teeth.  
"My friend, if we live through this fiasco, I am going to kill you. And believe me, I'll enjoy it."

"Hush," the inventor whispered. "We're on."

Walking over to where their friends were standing, the two smiled at them, greeting them with hugs and syrupy welcomes.

"Heya hon, what kept ya'll?" Gadget asked Chip, batting her lashes. Monty struggled to keep from laughing, imagining he could see the steam leaking from under the chipmunk's fedora at the vision he was presented with. Reguba wasn't having much better luck as Tammy curled her tail around him, drawing him into a kiss. The Redwall warrior looked like his eyes were about to fall out of his head.

"When you said disguises, you weren't kidding," Chip whispered. "I think I kinda like this side of you."  
"Don't get used to it," Gadget replied, lowly. "I feel like an idiot."

"Well whatever you feel like, you look like a poster girl for Nashville. That's gonna go a long way around here."

"Ya'll better believe it," Rob put in. "These 'ol boys loosen their tongues a lot easier fer a pretty face. Ya probly won't have much trouble getting 'em to talk about their accidents."

"Good. While you guys look for clues, Tammy and I will get the Rangerbolt ready for the qualifying heat this evening. We'll talk to the other drivers afterward. Meet us back at Team Moss's pit area around ten tonight."

"Will do, luv," Monty said. "Good luck."

"Thanks," Tammy grumbled, noticing several squirrel drivers staring in her direction. "We're gonna need it."


	4. Chapter 4: Sabotage!

**Chapter III: Sabotage!**

"Okay, Tam! Give me full throttle, so I can check the fuel mixture!"  
Just below Gadget's nose, the fanbelt and several other parts howled as Tammy held the gas pedal to the floor. Making a quick adjustment at the carburetor, she raised up and closed the hood.

"That's as good as it can get. Everything's tuned as closely as I can manage."  
Tammy made a quick slashing motion across her throat, and Gadget noticed a gerbil walking toward them. Nodding, she hopped up onto the fender.

"Howdy," the newcomer said, his eyes roaming over the Rangerbolt and it's occupants. "Ya'll must be them new drivers Moss brung in."

"Might be," Gadget drawled, fiddling with a socket wrench. "Whatcha need, stranger?"  
"Ain't no stranger," he replied. "Name's Jeremiah Jackson. Jist wanted ta warn you ladies 'bout this here race. I'd git out of it, if I was you."

"Well, we ain't exactly shrinkin' violets, Mr. Jackson. You wouldn't be threatnin' us, wouldja?"

"I didn't say nothin'. You just mind what I tole you."

He sauntered off into the dusk, disappearing into the shuffle of vehicles and drivers. Tammy stuck her head out the window.

"Well, what do you make of that?"

"I don't know. I got the feeling he was genuinely trying to warn us."

Gadget suddenly cocked her head to the side, listening.  
"Do you hear that?"  
"What, there's nothing but engines for two miles."

"Maybe it was nothing."  
She jumped up into the window, sliding into the driver's seat. The orange car trundled off toward the starting line, without it's operators ever noticing the pool of liquid it had left behind.

"Ladies and gentlemen, start your engines!"  
The track erupted into a roar as motors revved to their highest RPM levels. Over a dozen drivers slipped down their helmet visors, teeth clenched, jaws set, hands gripping steering wheels in determination.

"Remember, Gadget," Tammy reminded, "we're here to investigate. We don't have to come in first."  
"What are you talking about? Dad always said, if you're in a contest, play to win!"

"I was afraid you'd say that."

The young mouse at the center of the track held the checkered and green flags up into the air, and then, with a flourish, she dropped them in a unmistakable signal.

All of the drivers, upon seeing that signal, sent their vehicles rocketing down the track, leaving clouds of dust and dirt flying in their wake. When the uproar died down, and the air cleared, they were rounding the first bend, with the Rangerbolt charging into the lead.

"And the General Lee is flyin'!" the announcer stated excitedly. "Team Moss's new entry is takin' the track by storm!"

At the front of the pack, goggles down and hair streaming back in the wind from the open windows, Gadget Maplewood was having the time of her life. Surprisingly, so was Tammy. The rear end of the car slid to the side as they passed the first lap marker, making a sharp turn.

"Gadget, look out!" Tammy cried, pointing. A boxy vehicle had pulled up beside them, it's driver grinning viciously. With a twist of his wheel, he sent his car dashing sideways, smashing into the Rangerbolt's fender. The inventor clung onto control, pulling them back into a straight line.

"So, they wanna play rough, do they?"  
Shifting down, she floored it, the big 440 V-8 screaming it's defiance from under the hood. The offending driver was laughing, sure he'd gotten the victorious spot for this round. Looking in his rear view mirror, the laughter died in his throat.

WHAM!

The Rangerbolt's ram bars slammed against the rear of his stock car, sending him spinning in a circle as the two Rangers sped by in a blur of orange paint.

"Are we going to have to do bodywork after every race?" Tammy asked.

"If they drive this way all the time, it looks like it."

As they rounded the final bend, Gadget spied the finish line in the distance. As they crossed, she grinned, patting Tammy on the shoulder.

"See there? That wasn't so bad."  
Basking in the moment, she stepped on the brakes.

Nothing happened.

"Um…Gadget…why aren't we slowing down?"  
"I don't know!"  
Frantically, she began pumping the pedal, trying to pull some degree of stopping power from the braking system. None was forthcoming. They began skidding from side to side, the sheer speed of the car causing them to fishtail.

"Hang on, Tam! I can't control it!"

From the sidelines, the Rescue Rangers had been cheering the win, until Dale happened to notice something.

"Hey guys, why aren't they stoppin'?"  
Monty squinted, trying to see what was happening.

"Croikey! It looks like the lass's brakes are gone!"  
Realizing the danger to their respective ladies, Chip and Reguba were already scrambling over the railing, headed toward the track.

"They're not going to make it!" Sparky yelled, electrical sparks flying as his teeth chattered in fright.

Down below, the situation worsened as Gadget struggled to slow the Rangerbolt's rapid speed. The announcer had called out a medical unit, waiting to receive any injury.

"Can't you do anything?" Tammy screamed, clinging to one of the rollbars. Gadget shook her head.

"I'm losing it! Hold tight!"

With that the rear end of the car came fully around, sending them into an uncontrollable spin. The driver's side smashed into the fence that surrounded the pit area, and they turned forward again, only to collide head-on with a retaining wall at the edge of the track. The impact raised the rear of the car into the air, where it seemed to hang for a few seconds, before crashing back to earth.

Chip's heart nearly stopped as he witnessed the event, a dozen thoughts and doubts racing through his mind. The thought of raising Mariel alone, of living alone…

Reguba reached the scene first. The force of impact had broken Gadget's weld on the passenger door, which was loose in it's place. With his muscles rippling and a roar of strain, he tore it free, reaching inside. Unbuckling the harness, he lifted Tammy out, setting her on the ground a little way beyond. She was bruised and battered, but opened her eyes and smiled at him.

"Hey, handsome."  
Her expression, however, quickly changed to one of horror.

"Oh Lord, Gadget! Quick! Get her out of there!"

Chip and Dale were already on it, pulling debris away from the driver's window.

"One side, mates!" Monty bellowed. He pushed a fallen timber away with one hand, and tore away the netting that covered the window opening.

Gadget was slumped forward, her head resting against the steering wheel, the gearshift still clutched in one hand.

"Gimme a hand, buckoes."  
They gently lifted her out, and onto a stretcher that was waiting with the medivac personnel. As the white-clad group trotted away with their cargo, Chip started after them.

"Hold it, lad," Monty cautioned. "You'll just get in th' way. Let's check ovah all this wreck for clues."

The chipmunk hung his head.

"You're right, Monterey. But I don't know anything about engines! How do we know what went wrong?"  
"I can lend a hand," Tammy said, leaning on Reguba as they walked over.

"An' ol' Geegaw taught me a thing or three," Monty said. "Let's crack that hood!"

With an effort, Chip unlatched the warp sheet metal and raised it. Underneath, the engine was still basically sound, save for some superficial damage.

"Nothing wrong with the basics," Tammy thought out loud, checking several different parts. "Master cylinder's intact…hello, what's this?"

Pulling her hand out of the engine, she found it covered with brake fluid. Reaching back in, she fiddled around for a few seconds, and jerked loose a section of small tubing. She examined it, and her eyes narrowed.

"I should have known," she said. "Check this out."

On the underside of the tiny hose, there was a single, neatly cut opening.

"Small, but efficient. By the time we got to the final lap, there wasn't enough fluid left in the system to stop a cockroach on roller skates."

"Sabotage?" Sparky asked, with interest.

"Sure looks that way. But how? Gadget was under the hood not a half minute before we started for the track. She wouldn't have missed something like this!"

"We'll ask her when they get her patched up," Chip volunteered. "Come on, let's head up to the medic station."

As the Rangers approached the small building at the west side of the track, they knew immediately that Gadget was all right. Rather, they could hear that she was all right.

"Of all the rotten, two-timing, sniveling, conniving, devious, low-down…"

"Geez, I never knew she thought like that," Dale marveled.

Inside, a mouse in EMT togs was trying valiantly to keep his charge from getting off her cot.

"Miz Cooper, I cain't see if there's been no concussion or not, but you've gotta take it easy!"

Seeing Chip in the doorway, the nurse backed away, giving him a doubtful look.

"See if you kin do anythin' with 'er."

Taking off his hat, Chip sat down on the bedside, where his wife was quite obviously sulking.

"How's your head?" he asked.

"Better than the guy who did this will be, as soon as I catch up to him!"

He chuckled.

"Calm down, dear. The Rangerbolt can be fixed, our investigation's not derailed that much. Just take it easy."

Gadget looked up at him, a dangerous look burning in her blue eyes.

"They trashed my car, Chip. Between a couple of mechanics, that's reaaalllll personal."

"I know, I know. You feel like walking?"  
"I thought you'd never ask."  
Letting her lean against him, they made their way outside, where the track's towing crew had brought the Rangerbolt into the pit area. Upon seeing it, Gadget left Chip's hold, and walked over. She ran her hand gently over the crumpled fender, seething quietly.

"Tammy, are you up to an all-nighter?"

The squirrel straightened up, and stuck out her hand.

"Let's get cooking, Thelma."  
Gadget took the proffered hand.

"You got it, Louise."

She turned to Rob, who had been standing off to the side.

"Is there a garage anywhere around here? And a well stocked hobby store?"

"Nearest garage, outside th' human ones, that'd be over to Knoxville. I know, cause it's mine. Here's the keys. Hobby store's in th' same place, a couple'a buildings over ."  
"How fast can we get there?"

"If we can get t'the main road in a few minutes, won't take long atall. Albatross Air makes a night-stop near here."

As it so happened, Albatross Air was late that night. Which was good, as it took a little longer to get the wrecked Rangerbolt to the road than was expected. But before long, a familiar outline showed on the horizon, and a huge bird skidded along the ground, finally sliding to a stop.

"And Orville makes another three-point landing!" he cried.

Chip looked doubtful.

"Is this that wacky bird that Bernard told us about?" he whispered to Gadget.

"Shush. We need all the help we can get."

"Well now, lookee what we got here!" Orville said. "This wouldn't be the Rescue Rangers, would it?"  
"That's us," Dale said proudly.

"We were just wondering, Mr. Orville," Gadget said. "We need a lift to Knoxville with our car here. Would it be out of your way?"

"Sure wouldn't! I told Bernard and Bianca I'd help you guys out if I was ever in the neighborhood. Strap it under!"  
Within minutes, the wounded vehicle had been suspended beneath the large bird, and Gadget and Tammy clambered aboard.

"Albatross Air, flight one, ready for takeoff!" Orville cried, flapping his wings. As he became airborne, Chip called up to Gadget.  
"We'll be along in a bit, we're just going to ask some questions!"  
"Sure thing! See you in town!"

A little over a half-hour later, Orville touched down in the alley behind a human garage. Gadget knew that the one they wanted would be nearby, on the ground level.

"Thanks for the ride, Orville! You're a lifesaver!"  
"Anytime, Gadget! Back to the skies!"  
He flew up into the air, managing to crash into several signs and light fixtures on the way, but finally making it. Gadget shook her head at his antics, and then turned her attention back to the matter at hand. She felt like a walking toothache after all the night's happenings, but she was determined to repair her prized creation.

"There's the door to the garage, Tammy. Let's open up and get the Rangerbolt inside, so we can appraise the damage."

Back at the track, Chip and company had split up, interviewing several drivers about their 'incidents'. So far, they weren't having much luck.

"I'm tellin' ya guys, that's all I knows!" a mole named Charlie said. "I just heard this scratchin' noise, didn't think nothin' about it. But then, in th' middle of the race, my engine blows. No oil pressure!"

"Well…thanks a heap, Charlie," Chip said, trying to keep his forced accent intact. As the group walked away, he named off the main points of what they'd found.  
"Everybody admits to hearing some scratching noise, before they headed onto the track. But nobody knows what it could be."

"Oi'd say we bettah keep lookin', mate," Monty suggested. "That's one thing in common, but for once, oi think we need more clues!"

"Oh man, this is worse than I thought," Tammy groaned.

"I'll say," Gadget replied. "The radiator's busted, we've got a cracked head, and the transmission's ready to give any second."  
"Do you honestly think we can fix this in time for the first race tomorrow night? I mean, we did qualify for the lead spot."

"If we really work at it, I think we can. Have you got that parts list?"  
"In my jacket pocket."

"Good, let's go. I'd say 'Rescue Rangers Away', but I'm too sore to raise my voice that high."

"Trust me, I know the feeling."

A little while later, traveling down an aisle at the nearby hobby store, Tammy was in awe.

"Wow, I didn't know they made so much stuff for diecast models! Can you make any of it serviceable?"  
Gadget looked like she'd been insulted.

"Think who you're talking to, Tam."  
"Oh yeah, sorry."

"All right, look for a bottom pan for a Turboglide Dodge transmission. It should be in this section."

"Got it!"  
"Well that was fast. Maybe this won't take so long after all."

The next handful of parts weren't nearly as easy to find, and had the two friends running all over the model section.

"All right, a new 440 head," Gadget grinned, lifting the part from it's package, and setting it on a small cart she'd built. "A little drilling and sanding, and it'll be ready."

"Here's the radiator!" Tammy called. "Is that everything?"  
"Not quite. We'll have to run next door to the auto parts store and siphon off a few containers of real antifreeze."

"Can't you just use water? I hate the way that stuff smells."

"Well, we could, if you want to risk a cracked block, that is."

"Okay, okay, point taken."

They began to walk back toward the entrance, pulling the cart of parts behind them. On the way, Gadget began to be amazed at the sheer volume of small items the store carried.  
"Hey Gadget, you think we've got time to stop by the doll section? I don't know how long these jeans are going to hold up."  
"I guess so, Tam, just don't take too long!"

The squirrel bounded off in search of the aforementioned clothing, while Gadget waited. Interestingly enough, she looked around, and found herself in front of a rack of tiny musical instruments.

"Wow, wouldn't Chip and Dale love to get at these," she thought aloud, looking upward at a scaled down piano and a hand carved upright bass. She looked down at her own hands, wondering.

"It's been so long since I even picked up an instrument. I wonder if I could still play?"

Seemingly in answer, she noticed a small package sticking out at the back of the rack. Wading into the sea of plastic wrappers, she retrieved it, and pulled it back to the cart. She drew in her breath sharply.

The guitar was beautiful. Up close, she could tell the small instrument had been made by hand. The back and front arched at a fine angle, with twin f-holes running the length. Across the headstock, the word 'Gibson' was inlaid in mother-of-pearl.

"I see you found a new toy," Tammy commented, appearing in a new pair of Levi's. Gadget colored slightly.  
"I used to play a bit. Dad had a guitar made for me when I was eleven. It was nothing near this fine, though."

"Well, if it has a case, bring it along! Maybe when this is all over, you'll have some time to practice."  
"Maybe." Locating the oblong black box that was made to hold the treasure, she snapped it in and laid it reverently beside the auto parts they'd procured.

"All right, next door for our antifreeze, and then back to work!"

Morning came all too soon, and the two Ranger gearheads worked right through it. Dawn found Gadget up to her elbows in grease and transmission, while Tammy mated the new radiator in place. The blown head had been replaced, along with several other small, damaged parts. The engine had been the first priority, then bodywork.

"Gee, I didn't know it was gonna be…this difficult!" Tammy grunted as a dent popped out of the fender under her tools.

"Nobody ever said…the life of a mechanic was…easy," Gadget gasped, tightening a bolt in place as far as it would go. "I think we've got it all. Turn it over, Tam."

Her friend nodded as she slid through the window and into the driver's seat. The motor coughed, whined, and then caught, filling the garage with it's familiar rumble.

"Atta boy," Gadget grinned, patting the car on the fender. She threw her toolbox into the trunk, and then climbed in beside Tammy.

"Take us back to the track, it's almost five PM now! We'll tune it up when we get there."

The tires screamed loudly as they raced out through the open garage door, and back toward their mission.

"Where are they?" Sparky wondered. "It's going to be time to line up soon!"  
"They'll be here," Dale said. "Have you ever known Gadget to blow a deadline?"

All of the Rangers questions and nerves were answered by a well known roar of exhaust, as the small General Lee screeched around a corner, and pulled up to a stop.

"Oh stop harping, Gadget, I told you to hang on!" Tammy was saying.

"The way you drive, I'm always hanging!"

"Girls, girls, can you continue this another time? You've got to get to the starting line, and we need to get into position, to see if we can spot our saboteur," Chip said.

"Right, sorry sweetheart," Gadget answered meekly. She retrieved her crash helmet from the back seat, handing one to Tammy.

"Can you handle this, or do I need to take over?"  
The squirrel's only answer was to press the gas, speeding off toward the track.

"Those two make quite a team," Monty laughed. "C'mon, lads. We'd better be getting to a good hidin' spot, if we want to catch anybody!"


	5. Chapter 5: To Catch the Culprit

**Chapter IV: To Catch the Culprit**

At the starting line, the announcer was getting antsy.

"We're still waitin' for the zero-one car, but they only got a few seconds left!"

The crowd looked around in expectation. No one wanted Team Moss's entry to be disqualified!

A loud rumble dispelled the notion, and the spectators went wild as the Rangerbolt pulled up to it's place.

"Well, ladies 'n gents, it looks like we gonna get a good race after all. Drivers, start yer engines!"  
Tammy and Gadget waved to the crowd, while waiting anxiously for the starter's pistol. Which happened to be a human sized pistol, sitting on the sidelines, a blank in the chamber and a mouse lying on his back, foot on the trigger. He shifted his foot, and stuck his fingers in his ears.

BANG!

Every car leaped into action, vying for position.

"Yes, folks, we're a racin' now!"

From the stands, Chip and Dale watched the contest carefully. In spite of their vigilance, they hadn't seen anyone come near the vehicles as they were being tested, or while they were heading to the starting point.

"This is one of the strangest cases I've been on," Chip commented. "We've watched and watched, and haven't seen anybody! But we know these aren't just coincidences. The Rangerbolt had it's brake line cut, as plain as day. What are we missing?"

"I too must admit to being puzzled," Reguba mused from his seat. "My warrior instincts warn me that there is danger afoot, but it refuses to show itself. It is…unnerving."

"What he said," Dale shuddered. "An' Gadget and Tammy are out there in the middle of it!"  
"An' they wouldn't have it any othah way, mate. Trust ol' Monty on that one! Gadget's like 'er old Dad in more ways than she knows. Never can pass up a chance at adventure, the wily liddle sheila!"

Sparky shook his head.  
"Wily she is, but I'm still worried. Like Chip said, what are we missing?"

"Maybe they're invisible!" Dale suggested, earning himself a bonk on the head.

"Nobody's invisible, nut-brain!"  
"Are too!"  
"Are not!"  
"Are too, and I can prove it!"  
"How?"  
Dale made his voice sound guttural and mysterious.

"Who knows what evil, lurks in the hearts of men? The Shadow knows!"  
"I was talking about real people, dummy!"

"Oh…well that's no fun!"  
Chip pulled his fedora down over his eyes, groaning.

"Well, we've proven they're not invisible. It's almost like they're popping up from underground."

The rest of the Rangers fell silent at this observation.

"Popping up…from underground…" Chip repeated, tipping his hat back. "I don't believe it…that's got to be it!"

"Wot's it, pally?"

"The saboteurs must be moles or something! They're getting at the cars from underground! Don't you remember, the scratching sound everybody's heard right before their rides go haywire?"

"I do believe our fearless leader has hit upon the key," Reguba grinned, slapping Chip on the back. "Brilliant bit of deduction, sir!"

"Thanks, guys. But how do we catch them if they're tunneling below ground?"  
"Maybe Gadget can rig something up after this race is over," Sparky offered up.

"That is, if she doesn't wreck the car again," Dale snickered.

"I think the Rangerbolt will be in safe hands, with my lady at the wheel," Reguba said, reminding that Tammy was driving this time. Monty patted the squirrel on the shoulder.

"Sorry to bust your bubble, mate, but that doesn't exactly make me an 'ole lot more confident."

While Reguba mulled that one over, Chip made his way to the hidden Rangerwing, and turned on it's onboard radio. Sighing, he lapsed into the CB code that Gadget had recommended.

"Breaker one, breaker one. Sureluck Jones calling the Terrible Twosome. Come in."

There was a crackle of static for a moment, and Gadget's voice answered.

"We're all ears, sugah. What's the word?"

"The word is, be careful. We're onto something. Keep your eyes open, and your trigger finger ready, because I know you've got some surprises built into that car somewhere."

A muffled laugh came from the other end of the line.

"We'll be watchin'. From ahead, that is. We're in first place!"  
"Well, don't get too caught up in the moment and lose your head."

"Now, when have ya'll ever known little 'ol me to do that?"  
"And why are you talking like that, when it's just me?"  
"Cause this ain't a secure line, sweet thing."

The realization hit Chip just as Gadget pointed it out, and he thanked his lucky stars for marrying a genius.

"Got it. Watch yourself out there. Over and out."

"Ten-four."

As he walked back to the others, Chip started running various plans through his brain. None of them were particularly good, so he kept working on it.

"They're ready out on the track," he informed the Rangers. "So let's do a little snooping in the pit area until the race is over. I want to see if we can stumble onto these tunnels."  
"Foinally, some action!" Monty grinned, rubbing his hands together.

Out on the track, Tammy was driving like a pro, weaving in and out, doing her best to hold the lead position.

"Got any tricks up your sleeve to keep us at the head of the pack?" she asked her copilot.

"Unfortunately, I didn't have time to build an overdrive unit for the Rangerbolt. You'll just have to depend on it's own merit for now."

From the rear, there was a loud thump, as another vehicle crashed into the bumper.

"Golly!" Tammy said. She wilted a little at Gadget's expression.

"Sorry, didn't mean to steal your expletive."

"It's not an expletive! Or an invective, for that matter! Keep your mind on driving, so I can keep my mind on clinging to this seat!"

Reaching upward, Gadget tightened her harness straps, as the Rangerbolt skidded over bumps in the uneven track.

They were coming into the fourth lap, when Tammy made a startled sound.

"Uh-oh."  
"Tam, that is not what I need to hear right now."  
"Sorry, Gadget. The clutch plate's going to go. It's getting squirrelly on me already."

"Just baby it as much as you can. Hopefully it'll last through this final lap."

Last it did, and General Lee squealed to a stop shortly across the finish line. Gadget and Tammy climbed out, waving to the crowd in a victorious manner, and accepting handshakes from the race officials.

"You two ladies have done exceptionally well for Team Moss," one of them said. "We hope you'll do equally well on the cross-country race tomorrow."  
"Cross country?" both Rangers asked, sharing a collective gulp.

"Yes. You know, cross-country. Off road."

"Um, yeah, we know," Gadget said. "We'll be ready."

"Good, good! Best o' luck!"

The two friends got back into the car, and drove slowly toward their pit stall.

"Cross country?" Tammy asked. "Are they serious?"  
"As a heart-attack, it would seem," Gadget said, shakily. "I think I'd better spend this evening beefing up the suspension."

"I better spend the evening doing something to beef up my nerves," Tammy said, not relishing the prospecting of bouncing through the backwoods, hanging on for dear life.

"You and me both. Hey, there's Dale, what's going on?"  
The chipmunk was making shushing motions with his hands, and beckoned for Tammy and Gadget to come over, where Chip and Reguba were peering with interest into a small hole.

"Blimey, it's dark as pitch down heah!" Monty's voice said, drifting upward.

"What's Monterey doing down there?" Gadget asked, her natural curiosity taking over as she peered past Chip's shoulder.  
"We think this is how whoever it is has been getting at the racing vehicles," he said in a low voice. "They must be moles or something."  
Looking doubtfully at the contours of the hole's edges, Gadget spoke quietly.  
"Sorry, Chip, but I don't think we're looking for moles. I learned enough about tunnel construction from Foremole to know that we're looking for an entirely different animal. We're probably just supposed to think its moles."

"But who else could be doing this?"  
"Anybody with the proper equipment. Even Fat Cat's goons could pull it off given the right circumstances."

"We'll have to be doubly on our guard. See anything, Monty?" Chip called down.

Zipper's buzzing drifted back up to his ears.  
"Say again, Zip? You're a little distant."

The fly responded back a little louder, and Chip rocked back on his heels, an interested look on his face.

"They found a lot of discarded tools and parts…looks like whoever was there left in a hurry. They must have been pushing the deadline when they sabotaged the Rangerbolt."

"And when Gadget and Tammy got ready to leave, they were forced to leave their materials and cover their tracks, lest they be discovered," Reguba added.

Sparky nodded.

"Makes sense. It still doesn't clue us in on who did it, though."

At that moment, the ground under Sparky's feet trembled, and he was tossed back onto his posterior as a small miner's helmet popped up through a hole. The helmet was followed by a face, one that was obviously puzzled.

"Ssssay, strange place to put a car show," the new arrival said, his voice whistling through his teeth.

Gadget helped Sparky to his feet, looking over at this curious visitor.

"Hello there, can we help you, mister…"  
"No mister to it, young lady. Name's Gopher. My card."  
He handed her a small business card, and looked up at Chip, seeming to scrutinize his features.

"Just what neck of the woods am I in, sssssonny?"

"Lower Tennessee. Are you lost?"  
"Lost? Me? I never get lost. Just needed to make a right turn, that's all. Been on vacation, an' I'm wantin' to get back to the Wood before too long."

"Um, Gopher?" Gadget said. "Can you help us with something? We've got a tunnel here, and we don't know what dug it. You look like someone with…underground experience, can you tell us anything about it?"

"Be glad to!" he replied, waddling along the ground toward her. "Just where is this hole aaaaaaaaaatttttttt?"

Not watching where he was going, he fell feet first into the tunnel, eliciting a grunt from Monterey Jack as their bodies collided down below.

"Hey now, least I fell on somethin' soft this time! Oops, sorry about that, friend."  
The Rangers were rather glad they couldn't hear Monty's acidic reply.

Gopher began to methodically examine the scratches in the earth, where the tunnel had obviously been begun.

"Hmmm, very strange, that."

Mumbling to himself, he wandered around the small cavern, making mental notes, and giving an occasional "Aha!".

He walked back over to the entrance, and climbed carefully out, dusting himself off.

"Sorry to disappoint you, but no animal dug this. It's man-made. Or machine made, rather."

"You mean, there's no evidence of animals employing claws or any other method?" Gadget asked.

"That's puttin' it in fancy words, but yep."

He looked around, making sure of his directions before starting to tunnel home.

"Well, it's been fun chattin' with you kids, but time's a wastin'! I've gotta get home before the summer celebration partyyyyyyyyy!"

Once again, he fell into his own tunnel. His voice echoed back to the Rangers distantly.

"If you need me, lemme know. You've got my card, I'm not in the book y'know!"

"What an odd character," Gadget observed, putting the card into her back pocket. "Well, at least we found out that no person dug this. But who would have the resources to bring in a machine like that, barring Fat Cat or someone of his ilk?"

"And who would have the motive?" Tammy asked. "This is a real puzzler." She wound her arms around Reguba. "Sorry we're not being of any more help than we have been."

"You two have been a great help doing just what you're doing," Chip replied. "Your being in the races helps keep our cover in place, which is vital to what we're doing. You've just got to hang on until we find out what's going on…"

"And win if possible!" Rob said with a grin, walking up. "Ever'body's really impressed with th' two of ya. Ya'll and th' General are takin' these races to th' cleaners!"  
"Aren't they though?" Reguba said, pulling Tammy a little closer. "I never knew my lady was such a fine driver!"  
"Neither did I," Gadget said. "I don't know whose suspension suffered more, the car's or mine!"

Tammy looked more than mildly insulted.

"Well, I don't think you need to worry about injuring your suspension. It's padded plenty well enough!"

"Wait just a—just what are you implying!"  
"If the size eight-tenths coveralls fit, wear 'em, that's all I'm saying!"

"Why you…"

"Girls!" Chip said in exasperation. "We're on a case, remember?"

Tammy and Gadget looked at each other through slitted eyes. Then, to Chip's surprise, they started laughing.

"Oh gee, we are getting uptight," Tammy giggled. "Sorry about that, Gadget."

"No prob. Case tension gets everybody now and then. Let's go see what we can do about getting the Rangerbolt ready for tomorrow."

The two walked off together, chattering in technobabble about various automotive concepts. Chip scratched his head, looking curiously at Reguba.  
"If I live a hundred years, I'll never completely figure those two out."

The warrior squirrel laughed, clapping his friend on the shoulder.

"Neither shall I, good sir. Neither shall I. Now then, if we're to be about our casework, I suggest we find what our good friend Monty would term…the local watering hole."

"Where most of the drivers will be hanging out this evening. Good logic."

"That, and I am fairly well parched to a crisp."  
"Can't argue with that logic," Sparky grinned. "Come on gang. Let's go rattle some bushes."

"Rattle some bushes?" Dale mouthed, puzzled. Chip shrugged and indicated that they should follow the electric Ranger, and try to scare up some more leads.

Deep underground, beyond the tunnel the Rangers had just investigated, two pairs of eyes glanced around in the darkness.

"Do you think that they saw us?"  
"No, we were too far away. The boss would be most unpleased if we had been caught."

"Yes, this I know. Do we continue our work tonight?"  
"Yes, but we must be careful. We will have to begin a new shaft."

"Most unfortunate. We will have to up our work schedule to meet the deadline."  
"Yes. Come, we must finish repairs on our equipment."

The voice faded away into the dark, and there was the faint, scratchy sound of machinery cranking up.

In the nearby shed, one of many provided for each pit crew, Gadget lay flat on her back on a rolling dolly, which was scooted up under the Rangerbolt. The heavy-duty parts that she'd brought from home had come in handy, just as she'd felt they would. With the modifications she was making to the suspension system, the car would be able to take pretty much anything the terrain could throw at it. Well, almost anything, that is, if there was too big a jump, or maybe sharp rocks…

She shook her head and turned her concentration back to her work. Above, Tammy was bent under the hood, adjusting the tiny spark plugs that Gadget had crafted for the vehicle. They had been the most difficult parts for the inventor to fabricate, and they required maintenance at least every week to keep them in prime working order. In this case, it was more than every week, given the punishment the little Charger was going through. She took her eyes away from the engine for a moment, letting them roam over one side of the car's body. The fender was straight, but it had a slightly rumpled look to it that came from too much bodywork in a short span of time.

"You know, Gadget, when this case is over, we might want to see if someone around here can make us a new set of fenders. I think these have about had it."

"Yeah, I know, but they'll have to last a while yet. Right now, we have to keep our minds focused on keeping things running, until the case is actually done with. Hand me that biggest socket wrench, will you?"

Tammy handed the tool down, and went back to work. A moment later, there was a clinking sound as the wrench slipped off of a bolt, and bare skin hit metal. Gadget's muffled voice came out boiling hot from under the frame.

"Gadget? Your pilot's vocabulary is showing again."

"Ooops. Sorry, Tam. That one just hurt more than the last seven or eight times I've done it, for some reason."

"Maybe we should take a break. We've been at this for a couple of hours nonstop, you know."  
"Maybe you're right. I do need a rest…my caffeine's running out."

"You are such a coffee nut."  
"Hey, what can I say? It's what keeps me going those long nights in the workshop."

"Speaking of which, there's an all night eatery just down the street from here. Well, what passes for a street."  
Gadget brightened a bit.

"How'd you like to take a little road trip, Tammy?"  
"I think it sounds marvelous!"

The two mechanics closed down the hood, and managed to lever their tired bodies through the windows. Moments later, the small orange Charger was kicking up dirt as they sped across the parking area, and toward the trail that led onto the main highway.

"Where'd you say this place is?" Gadget asked, scanning a row of darkened, mouse-sized buildings.

"It should be here, somewhere...wait! There it is!"

Gadget's heart sank. The little run down café wasn't exactly where she envisioned savoring an evening cup of joe. But then, as Monty was fond of saying, any port in a storm.

As they climbed out of the Rangerbolt, Gadget self-consciously pulled down the short T-shirt she was wearing.

"I'll be glad when this undercover bit is done with," she muttered. "These outfits make me feel like a…a…"

"Tramp?" Tammy supplied.

"Thank you for illustrating," Gadget seethed.

Much to her surprise, the inside of the establishment made a lie of the outside. The walls were white and clean, and the counter well scrubbed. The tables and chairs scattered around various points of the room were shabby, but clean and patched.

"Hmm. Maybe I was wrong, Tam. This doesn't seem like such a bad idea, after all."

Seating themselves at the counter, the two were shortly attended by an elderly mouse in a gingham apron.

"What'll it be, youngins?"

"Coffee, as black as you got it."  
"Same here."

A moment later, two fine looking cups on matching saucers were served to them, filled to the brim with steaming liquid. Gadget picked hers up, lifted it in salute to Tammy, and turned it up. Her eyes shot open wide, and she stood straight up from the stool.

"Wow, cough, that's not cough bad."  
Tammy, meanwhile, had suffered the same reaction.

"It packs cough, splutter a mule-sized punch, I know that!"

The old mouse behind the counter chuckled.

"You two must be new 'uns around here. That there's milk compared t'what most of 'em get what comes in here."

She looked past the two incognito Rangers, and winced.

"Oh Lordy, here comes trouble."

Two disreputable looking rats shuffled in, taking a seat in the corner. A moment later, they were joined by a tall lizard, who kept his collar turned up, in an effort to hide his face. Gadget felt a jolt of recognition.

"Tammy, keep your head down!" she hissed.

"What?"  
"That's Sugar Ray Lizard!"

Indeed it was. The gangland thug had changed little in the time since the Rangers had encountered Rat Capone, and if anything, he looked meaner than ever. Gadget and Tammy strained their ears to hear what was being said.

"Now lissen up, you'se two. We got big plans goin' down, see? Dem races gotta be outta here on time, or da boss ain't gonna be pleased wit you'se. An' this fella ain't near as understandin' as Capone used ta be."  
The two rats gulped, and nodded vigorously.

"Shore thang, man! We'll tell them diggers to speed it up triple-time, if'n we have to!"

"Keep yer voice down!" Sugar Ray snapped. "We ain't da only ones in here, see!"

"Aw, they's just a coupla broads, whatta they know?" one rat asked.

Downing the rest of her coffee, Gadget decided that now would be an excellent time to depart, with all due haste. Thanking the waitress, she and Tammy moved quietly for the door.

"Hey, dollfaces. Leavin' so soon?"  
Sugar Ray whipped his tail from side to side, grinning in a malign manner. Gadget could see that he didn't recognize her, and she wasn't taking any chances.

"Sorry 'bout that, sugah," she said, allowing her voice to wax syrupy and low. "We got jobs t' do early in the mornin', an' gotta get our beauty sleep. Maybe we'll run inta ya'll another time."

"Yeh…maybe," he said, casting a leery eye over them. Shooting a look at Tammy, Gadget pulled her the rest of the way out the door, escaping while the getting was good. Once outside, she turned around, a serious look on her face.

"This isn't good, Tam. Even if he's not working for Capone anymore, Sugar Ray is bad news. We didn't get much information, but we got a little. Come on, we've gotta get back to the track and warn the others."

Moments later, they were skidding across the dirt road, the Rangerbolt's rear end sliding this way and that as Gadget floored the gas. Back inside the café, Sugar Ray was deep in thought.

"Hunh. Coulda swore I seen that dame before somewhere. Ah well, it'll come ta me."

Meanwhile, back at the track, Chip and company were knee-deep in their own question asking. The local watering hole, as it turned out, was housed in the base of an old hollow tree near the pit area. Sporting a glow in the dark sign that read 'The Twilight Club', it was a pretty rough spot. Racers and locals alike sat around the counter, trading jokes and insults, and on occasion, a few blows. Monty, dressed like a huge biker mouse, was trying to extract information from a waiter.

"So, when did all this start, mate?"

"Few weeks ago, when th' first round o' qualifyin' heats came around. You ask a whole lotta questions, mister."

Chip wasn't have much better luck. His target, a tall, brunette ground squirrel, put up with his curiosity for about five minutes, before asking a question of her own.

"What's with th' twenty questions, bub?"

"Oh nothin', I was just curious."  
"Yeah? Well curiosity killed th' cat, ya know."

Swallowing hard, he moved on to another patron. Of all the Rangers, Reguba seemed to be doing the best. Sitting with his chair tipped back against the wall, feet up on the table, he chatted amiably with a gorgeous, red-haired chipmunk. He tossed back the remainder of his glass of pecan ale, and nodded to her, before returning to join the rest of the group.

"Any luck?" Chip asked.

"A bit. My contact," he said, smiling over at the radiant female driver, "seems to remember seeing some questionable characters lurking about, acting almost as if they were...surveying the track site, I believe she said. Most odd."

"Sounds like it plain out stinks to me," Dale said sourly. "Does any of this stuff qualify as a clue?" he asked Chip.

"Yes and no. We need to get back to Gadget and Tammy, and see if they've heard anything from the other mechanics."  
Stepping outside into the fresh air, they were greeted with the squeal of brakes as the Rangerbolt slid to a stop before them. Gadget eased out, and sat in the window.

"Guys, follow us back to the pit area. Something tells me that this isn't just a local job."


	6. Chapter 6: Countryside Calamity

**Chapter V: Countryside Calamity**

"You're absolutely sure it was Sugar Ray, Gadget?" Chip asked.

"Dead sure. That's a face you don't forget very easily."

"It's one that I'd like to forget, after seeing it," Tammy shivered.

Chip considered the new development.

"Well, this does change things somewhat. It looks like there may be a bigger player behind this game than we originally thought."

"It isn't Capone, apparently," Gadget mentioned. "Sugar Ray said his new boss was 'nowhere near as understanding as Capone'…so I don't know what caliber of bad guy we're dealing with. We need to be careful from here on in. Very careful."

"Too roight," Monty said. "This lizard may not be th' sharpest cookie around, but you blokes remembah the last time we went up against Capone. 'E was dangerous, wot with that tail an' all."

"So what's the game plan, Chip?" Sparky asked.

"Okay, here it is. Gadget and Tammy will compete in the cross-country race tomorrow, as planned. While all the drivers are occupied with that, we'll be setting up a little trap here for our unknown assailants. I'd like to bring in the local law enforcement on this, if possible."  
"Um, Chip, would that mean him?"  
Dale pointed to the other side of the track. A small vehicle sat there, with an obvious electric motor mounted at it's rear, and a gold star on one of the side panels. Leaning against it was a tall, lanky mouse, dressed casually in an older style sheriff's uniform.

"Hmm…if one didn't know better, you would think he was watching us," Reguba said, curiously. Gadget remembered something, and spoke up.

"Rob said something about the local sheriff…and from the looks of him, I don't know if we can trust him or not."

"But it's the cops," Tammy said, puzzled. "Why can't we?"  
"Tam, don't be naïve. Corruption reaches many places. And if my hunch is right, this guy's probably about as corrupt as they come. Come on, let's finish up the Rangerbolt and get ready for bed."

Across the way, Sheriff Beauford Oakwater watched the group with keen interest. A country bumpkin he might be, but he knew this bunch was up to something. Reaching for his radio, he called in.

"Hey boss, you got yer ears on, come on?"

"Beauford, how many times do I got to tell you, never call me after eight! I'm getting ready for my beauty rest."  
"Don't see how he does that, he's a whole mess 'a ugly," Beauford muttered. He didn't dare say that over the radio, but he sure could think it. Jefferson O'Walnut was just about the meanest, dirtiest, and ugliest groundhog that anybody in the tri-county area knew of. And that made him perfect to run the local underworld, as well as the local county. And, the local sheriff. Really, there wasn't anything rotten and bad in this part of the country that he didn't run. The only honest member of his party was Sheriff Oakwater's deputy, Enoch Redbark. He was a constant galling factor to the criminals' plans, but had to be kept on, because he knew too much to be let go. Sometimes, he just didn't realize that he knew it.

"Uh, Jeff, I was callin' in to letcha know, them two girls won the first race today fer Team Moss. They's gonna be runnin' in the cross country tomorra."

"What! This is terrible! Now listen up, you nuthead. You make double sure that them two don't get to the startin' line tomorrow, understand? Cause if they do, you're gonna be…"  
"Out of a job," Beauford said.  
"Out of a job." O'Walnut repeated. "Now get goin'!"

Back at his base of operations, O'Walnut hung his radio microphone back on it's stand, and turned to his partner, who was sitting on the other side of the room.

"Jefferson, you said you'd have this taken care of," the oily voice commented, a slightly dangerous hint coming into it.

"Well…it's bein' took care of, right now! My sheriff's out there, and he'll get to those two. Just you watch!"

"For your sake, I hope so. I've got big plans for that racetrack. Very big plans."  
"Just how big we talkin'?"  
"Big enough that I'll tell you when I get good and ready."

The rat leaned forward, a gleam in his beady eyes.

"My…associate, tells me that he believes he knows one of them. They'll need close watching, no matter what happens."  
"Well, a'course! We'll keep a tail on 'em, don't you worry yourself a bit, Fran--"  
The rat's fist slammed down on the table he was sitting at.  
"I told you to never use my name! It's just my…policy."

"Oh…sure, sure! I'll be careful about that, I never like dissapointin' a business partner!"  
Outside, just beyond the door, Deputy Redbark had heard everything that transpired. He knew that he worked for a corrupt system, but on his own, there was nothing he could do about it. However, there was something he could do about this.  
"Gotta warn them two ladies," he whispered, and slipped out into the night.

With a few twists of her wrench, Gadget's final adjustments to the Rangerbolt were complete. She'd beefed up every part of the undercarriage upon which it was possible to do so, installed heavy-duty suspension springs, reinforced the axles, the whole enchilada.

"Well, Tam, it looks like we've gone about as far as we can go with this. Come on, let's go get some sleep. It's gonna be a long day tomorrow."

" 'Scuse me, ladies."

"Yahhhhhh!" Tammy shrieked, leaping into the air as a tall, well built mouse seemed to materialize from nowhere behind her."

"Uhh, howdy," Gadget said, recognizing the newcomer as local law enforcement. "Ya'll lookin' for somethin' deputy?"

"Naw ma'am, just you two. Ya'll got to be careful on that track tomorrow! Sheriff's got somethin' powerful mean planned against you'uns."

Tammy eyed him suspiciously.

"And why are you tellin' us, then?"  
Redbark hung his head.

"I may hafta work for 'em, but the Sheriff and Mr. O'Walnut don't always do such nice things. So I help people out where I can. I'm hopin' to go up New York way one day, and be a crimefighter like my heroes."  
"And who're they?" Gadget asked.

The shy lawmouse removed a folded newspaper clipping from his breast pocket. It was from a well-known small animal publication in the metro area of the city.

"Rescue Rangers," she read. "Hmm. Well, you got big aspirations, mister. Hope ya can make it."

"I'm tryin', a little at a time. Ya'll need me tomorrow, gimme a yell on th' radio. I'll help if I can."

As he left, Tammy and Gadget stared after him for a while.

"Well, it looks like somebody's getting uptight about us winning," the young squirrel Ranger observed.

"Quite. It's a good thing that I installed a few…surprises, like Chip said. Come on."

Pressing a control under the Rangerbolt's fender, she then turned off the lights in the shed, and headed for the Rangers' campsite.

Late that night, while the entire compound slept, a shadowy figure slipped across the track, headed for the pit area. Only the faintest glint of light could be seen, reflecting off the Sheriff's badge, as he crept into the shed where the Rangerbolt resided.

"Well now, let's just see what we got here," he chuckled, reaching for the hood release.

WHOOP!WHOOP!WHOOP!WHOOP!

An alarm sounded that pierced the sleep of everyone nearby. Falling over tools and other implements, Oakwater stumbled outside, leaping over into a ditch to avoid discovery.

"This wasn't in my job description," he groaned, brushing dirt from his uniform as he slunk off into the woods.

Back at the track, lights flashed on, illuminating the numerous tents and box trailers that served as shelters.

"Wot'n blue thunder's goin' on?" Monterey asked, half asleep as he tumbled out of his sleeping bag.

"That's the alarm on the Rangerbolt!" Gadget yelled. "Come on!"

She broke into a run, with Tammy diving after her. As they threw open the doors to the small garage, they saw that the lights had been left on inside.

"Somebody was in a great hurry," Chip commented, walking in behind them. "What's this?"

Lying on the floor were a small pair of wire clippers, and a packet of sugar.

"If they couldn't get us one way, they'd try another," Gadget fumed. "This is getting annoying."

"Now, now, Gadget luv, keep your steam under control," Monty admonished. "The boys an' oi'll keep watch heah. You two girls go back and finish sleepin'. The car'll be 'ere when ya need it in the mornin'."

"Thanks, Monty."

"You what!"  
"I, uh, I didn't get a chance t' mess up the car."  
"Beauford, you knucklehead! I swear, if I could get anybody else to work for what you do…"  
"My friend, we now have a serious problem," the mysterious gangster put in. "If someone wins this racing season, then this track will not close. And I will not achieve my aim. And I will not be happy. So as of now, my boys and I will handle things our way. We'll let you know if we need help."

"Well, I…"  
O'Walnut looked after the receding figure.  
"Sheesh. Maybe it's better we ain't associated with him now. I got a bad feelin' about that one."

The next morning dawned cloudy, with a storm front on the horizon. One by one, the cars lined up at the starting point. The announcer explained the rules.

"All right, folks, here it is. Each driving team has received a map. Ya'll hafta get from here, to the point marked on there. You can take whatever route you can find. First car there wins. Any questions?"  
No one spoke.  
"Good. Then lets git racin'!"

The drivers slid into their cars, and took their positions.

"Are you sure you're up to this, Gadget?" Tammy asked.

The mouse inventor waved the question off.

"Oh come on, I've driven the alleys of New York City on stormy nights with the Rangermobile shorting out every mile. I think I can handle this. But if I need you to, you can spell me after a few miles."  
"Cool."

"Right. Now strap in tight, and hang on. From what I understand, this is a pretty no holds barred race. These other drivers may try anything to win."  
The seconds ticked down in what seemed like an eternity.

CRACK!  
The starter's pistol sounded suddenly, and vehicles roared from all sides of the track.

The competition was on!

"All roight, mates, heah's the plan. Oi spread the word among the drivers earlier that we got a backup vehicle over there in th' shed. Now then, when them sorry dingoes come an' try to sabotage it, they're gonna get more than they bargained for. Oi boobytrapped the ignition system on this wreck with some of Gadget's spare spark plugs. They'll get a charge out of it, oi think!"

Monty sat back, looking very pleased with himself.

"Monty, that's…actually a very good, well thought out plan! How unlike you!" Chip said.

"Thanks, lad, though oi'm not exactly sure 'ow to take that."

"It's a good plan," Sparky thought aloud. "And now would be the perfect time for someone to try it, while this race is on."

Suddenly, Zipper flew up, panting, and began to buzz frantically.

"'E says 'e heard a scratchin' noise near th' sheds! That's them, pallies! Follow me!"

The Rangers took off at a run, making for the enclosure where Monty's trap had been set. As they approached, there was the sound of electricity buzzing, and a loud yelp. They crashed through the doors, and Monty set his formidable strength against the gutted hulk he'd used for bait. As it rolled back, a tunnel entrance was revealed. Chip beamed his penlight down into the whole, and Reguba stood ready with his staff.

"Come out, fell villains! Surrender!" he shouted.

"All right, we surrender! Please not to hurt us!"  
As the perpetrators climbed out into the light, everyone stopped dead still and stared.

"The Panda kids!" Dale asked in disbelief.

"The Rescue Rangers!" the two young pandas cried. "We are saved!"

"Waitaminit," Chip said. "What do you mean, you're saved? You're the ones we've been trying to catch sabotaging the cars!"

"Yes, we know," Ling-Sun, the female panda said. "But we hope you will believe us when we say we had no choice!"

"Our parents are in danger, and being held against their will," Chi-Lin, her brother added. "All that we know is that a mysterious 'boss', as we are required to call him, "has them somewhere nearby here. In exchange for their safety, we use our digging machines to sabotage these vehicles. It is a pity, for they are such fine work!"

Reguba looked doubtful.

"Do we believe them?"  
Chip nodded.

"They're old friends, Reg. If they say someone made them do this, then someone did."  
"Blimey, sorry 'bout th' shock therapy, kids," Monty offered, slightly embarrassed. "Didn't know it was you two oi was trappin'!"

"It is all right, Mister Colby," Ling-Sun replied. "You did not know. But we must return to our tunnels! If the boss finds us not working, it will go hard with our parents!"

"Were you on tour again?" Chip asked.

"Yes, at the State Zoo here. Our parents were kidnapped soon after we arrived."

"Don't worry, guys," Dale assured them, "we'll get to the bottom of this!"  
Chip agreed.

"Meantime, you two get back down there and make with the digging. We'll see what we can come up with topside here."

Meanwhile, out in the boondocks, the Rangers' two undercover females were giving their all…all to holding on for their lives, that is.

"W-w-what kind of c-c-c-civilization d-d-does this for f-f-fun?" Tammy asked, her teeth clattering from the rough terrain.

"You'd be surprised," Gadget answered, never taking her eyes from ahead. She'd spied an old trail through the forest soon after leaving the starting line, and had cut across an open field to reach it. It was proving hard going, but the Rangerbolt was performing admirably with it's undercarriage modifications. She swerved to miss a fallen log.

"Well, this is working out pretty well, I'd say! We've got a pretty decent path, the ground's evening out, and…"  
"Look out!"  
Tammy's scream brought Gadget out of her monologue, and she literally stood on the brakes. Skidding through the soft dirt, the Rangerbolt stopped, with it's front bumper hanging over a creek bank. The water looked swift and deep, and there was no place to cross.

"Great," Tammy muttered. "How do we get across that?"  
Gadget looked around, and sighed. Mumbling to herself, she started checking angles and calculating vectors. After a moment, she shifted into reverse, and started backing up the trail.  
"Gadget…what are you doing?"  
"Getting us across the creek."  
"How? I don't see a bridge anywhere."  
There was a twinkle in Gadget's eyes.

"Who said anything about a bridge?"  
Tammy didn't get it for a minute, and then she started shaking her head.

"Ohhhhh no, Gadget. Don't you even think it!"  
"It's the only way across."  
"I don't care! Go find a ford somewhere!"  
"There isn't one. Just sit tight and hang on."

Shifting down, she pressed the accelerator to the floor. The Charger picked up speed, it's rear tires spinning as they barreled down the hill and toward the running water.  
"Gadget, if we get out of this alive, remember, I'm gonna kill you!" Tammy yelled, covering her eyes as the wheels left the ground.

The Rangerbolt shot over the open space like a missile, traveling through the air at top speed, to ram against the ground on the other side, still rolling. As they picked up speed again, Tammy tentatively peeked around her hands.

"Did we make it?"

"We're still driving aren't we, silly?"

"Oh…yeah. Good thing Bink wasn't with us."  
"Why's that?"  
"She'd want to go back and do it again!"


	7. Chapter 7: I Spy

**Chapter VI: I Spy**

Gadget Maplewood was undoubtedly having the time of her life. Whether or not she wanted to admit it, racing had always been in her blood, just like piloting. Geegaw Hackwrench had spent some time on the fledgling circuit back home, and it only fueled the desire for speed and sheetmetal that had already built itself into her very being.

"Well, at least you're having fun," Tammy observed, taking in the look of glee on her friend's face.

"What'd you expect? I never get to drive like this when we're back home. It scares the guys to death!"

'And what about me?' the squirrel though sourly. She opted not to push it, hanging onto her seat instead.

"Let's see…if we cut through here, and take a shortcut through that next stand of trees, we should come right out into the main pack!"  
"Oh, joy."  
The Rangerbolt's engine roared as Gadget floored the pedal, sending them skidding across the dark mountain soil that made up the forest floor.

"Wot're we goin' ta do about those kids, Chippah?" Monty asked.

"We're going to get them out of this, that's what. I think a trip to the state zoo is in order. Luckily, it's just back in Knoxville. If we take the Rangerwing, it won't take that long to get there."

Dale looked worried.  
"But what about Gadget an' Tammy? They're out there racin'…one'a these drivers might be workin' for whoever it is that started this mess!"  
"That's true…and that's why we leave some of our best behind. As Scooby and the gang used to say, we're gonna split up. Monty, Dale and I will go to Knoxville, to see what we can find out about the Pandas' parents. Reguba, you and Sparky stay here, and be ready to help if the girls get into any trouble."

Reguba rubbed his hands together, eager for a good dust-up if the situation should present itself. Monty, however, wasn't so sure about the arrangement.

"Ah, Chip me lad, are ya sure you wanna go off like this, with Gadget here an' all? Oi know how ya usually feel about that."

The Rangers' leader wouldn't say it out loud, but he was torn inside about that very thing. But then, she had to fly on her own sometime. Or drive, as the case might be.

"She'll…she'll be all right, Monty. I trust her."

"Atta way, boyo. C'mon, lets go find us some answers, ay?"

"Right."

As they rolled the Rangerwing from undercover, however, Chip started having doubts. What if something happened to Gadget while he was gone? Would he be able to forgive himself…or go on without her?

"Cheese it, Maplewood," he muttered, "she can handle herself."

The 'Wing's hover-rotors whirred to life, and the aircraft lifted off, blowing a cloud of dust around the two remaining Rangers.

"With the others gone, we must now do what we can to solve the mystery here," Reguba declared. He could speak like an American flawlessly when he wanted to, but in situations like this, he tended to sound like a British marine.

"Who put you in charge?" Sparky glared. "Last I checked, I was around before you were."

"Come off it, spark-plug!"  
"Why you…"  
Sparky began to arc a current of electric between his hands…but then he stopped.

"Wait just a—what are we fighting for?"  
Reguba lowered his fists, and thought for a minute.

"You know, you're right. Solo mission jitters, I suppose. Friends?"

"Friends," Sparky grinned, extending his hand. Reguba eyed it warily, and raised his gaze to the smiling mouse's eyes.

"You'll pardon me if I just take your word for it."

The Rangerbolt splashed across a shallow, trickling spring, the back tires spraying water like fountains. Gadget tugged at the wheel gently, bringing them back into a straight line.

"Are you sure you know where you're going?"  
"Of course I do, Tam. Would I be going this way if I didn't?"  
"I dunno, you tell me."

"Squirrels, honestly…"

"Hey, at least we've got manageable ears."

This sort of banter continued over the next few miles. Slowly but surely, the tree cover parted, revealing the group of racers, screaming down the main road.

"See?" Gadget said. "I told you we were going the right way."  
"I still say it was just luck."

"There's no such thing as luck."  
"This road trip seems to be evidence for the contrary!"  
Gadget gunned the engine, sending the car vaulting over the ditch that separated them from the main road. Sparks flew from the undercarriage as they returned to the gravel, bringing them out just at the head of the pack. Tammy sat back up in her seat, looking somewhat green.

"Mind if we stop back by on the return trip? I think I left my stomach back there."

"I'll see what I can do."

Back at the announcer's box, things were starting to jump.

"This just in, Gen'ral Lee's takin' the pack by storm! Team Moss is in th' lead!"  
The crowds went wild, cheering as the number '01' was hung in the leading spot on a large scoreboard.

"Looks like they're making do pretty well for the moment," Sparky commented. Reguba nodded.  
"Very true. However, we should still stay within arm's reach."

"Duly noted. Say, you hungry? It's getting past lunch."  
"Famished, old boy," Reguba said, his accent thickening with his humor. "Shall we attempt to requisition yonder concessions vendor?"

"Yes, by all means, let's!"

The two friends trundled off toward a small table, on which numerous types of sandwiches and soda pops were arranged.

They didn't see Sugar Ray Lizard slip by in the shadow of the bleachers.

The oily reptile slunk off toward the track's office, keeping out of sight as much as possible.

By air, the trip to Knoxville didn't take that long. Though not as fast as human aircraft, the Rangerwing did it's job perfectly well for the Rangers.

"The State Zoological Gardens of Tennessee," Dale read from the large, wrought iron sign. "Zowie, this place looks cool!"

"Remember Dale, lad, we're heah for business, not pleasure," Monty reminded.

"Y'mean I can't look at all the exotic aminals?"

Chip made an exasperated noise.

"That's animals, dummy. And you can look at 'em all right. We'll be questioning most of them."

"Sweet! How hard can it be?"  
Dale was soon to find out how hard it could be, as zoo animals can be very tight-lipped creatures. Some were wary of the crimefighters. Some didn't even acknowledge them.

"This is blinkin' peculiar," Monty growled. "Nobody knows nothin' around heah!"

"Either that, or they're scared to admit that they do," Chip observed. "Come on, we've got a few more cages to go yet."

"Well don't go rushin' off t' those others so soon, young man! Come and visit a spell!"  
"Who said that?"  
"I did! Down here!"  
Glancing down into an enclosure, Chip noticed a set of whiskers protruding from some brush.  
"Beggin' your pahdon, ma'am," Monty said courteously. "We just didn't see ya down there!"  
An old, gray otter came slinking up out of her pond, shaking her fur out as she walked.

"Havin' trouble findin' out about somethin', kids?"  
"We sure are!" Dale blurted. "We're tryin' to find out about the pandas that disappeared from here, but nobody knows anythin'!"  
The otter chuckled, beckoning to them.  
"C'mon down to my place, an' we'll talk. Don't want things getting around t'unfriendly ears, y'know."

The otter, whose name was Frieda, had her home built into a tightly packed pile of brush and logs at the back corner of her enclosure. The interior was snug and comfortable, with hand-hewn furniture lining the walls.

"My boy did all this for me, afore they took him off to another zoo," she said, reminiscing. "He were good with his hands, that one."

"You were saying that you know something about the pandas?" Chip pressed.

"Take your time, sonny," Frieda advised. "Haste makes waste, you know."

She eased herself into a rocking chair, and her expression turned pensive.

"Couple months ago it was. I was asleep down here, but I had m'window open for some air, y'know. The pandas was my next door neighbors. Nice folk they were, didn't speak the language real well, but they was learnin'. Me an' the youngins' mama got to be pretty good pals. We was supposed to go down to the fox enclosure for a quiltin' the next day, so I went to bed early. Old bones be tired bones, an' all that."  
She paused to catch her breath, sipping at a cup of mint tea.

"It were along the middle of the night, when there come such a racket from next door like you never heard afore. Ol' Pa panda, he was growlin' and roarin' up a storm, an' then everythin' just went kinda quiet. I got out from betwixt my coverlets an' went to roust up Sheriff Oakwater. Time we got back though, t'werent nothin' left but their things. Ain't hide or hair been seen of 'em since."  
Chip had one question that hadn't been answered.  
"Did the sheriff or anyone else find anything that might have been a clue."  
"Dunno 'bout the sheriff. He's 'bout as useful as throwin' a bowl a' grits into a tornado, but he's the only law we got. Me, though, I did find this here."  
Reaching down beside her chair, she pulled out an old style, floppy hat, such as ones worn with zoot suits in the earlier portion of the century.

"Hmmm, haven't seen anybody wearing one of these in a while. Anybody get a look at the owner?"  
"Naw, not a good look. All's anybody knows, is he's a rat. Miz Molly, the fox across the street, she seen 'im runnin' off with his crew after the deed was done. That was when he dropped his hat."

"We 'ppreciate all th' help, Missus Frieda," Monty said. "Maybe we can use this here info to catch the blighters."

"I hope so. It ain't fittin' to have kidnappin's and such goin' on in a respectable neighborhood. I hope them pandas is all right."

As they left the elderly otter's residence, Dale made an obvious observation.

"Guess we're lookin' for a big, ugly rat again."

"Too roight. Ya think it's Capone, Chippah?"  
"Couldn't be. He's still in prison from the cheese racket scheme."  
"Then who?"  
"I dunno guys. I just don't know."  
From his perch on Monty's shoulder, Zipper buzzed a question.  
"Nahh, Zip, it couldn't be 'im. Where're we off to next, buckoes?"

"We need to get back to the track. Maybe some of the residents that live around here have seen something out of the ordinary."

Out on the road, Gadget was fighting like a madmouse to maintain position. On track was one thing, but in the road races, there were no holds barred. The Rangerbolt's fenders were scarred and dented the run of their length from the constant rams and side impacts.

"Don't these guys know anything about sportsmanship?" Tammy cringed, leaning away from her door as another vehicle slightly sideswiped them.

"I think they do, but they're ignoring it."  
"True that. Think we can pull out of this mess by going off road again?"  
"I don't know. Navigate, willya?"

Checking the map of the surrounding countryside, Tammy looked for any means of gaining a lead.

"There's an old road bearing off to the right, that cuts through a few acres of forestland. We should be able to save a few miles that way."

'Breaker, breaker! Ranger-Vanguard calling Eagle-One, you copy?'  
"We're here, Reguba," Tammy answered, picking up the mic. "What's wrong?"

'Be careful out there, ladies. We've got a bit of a situation developing here.'

"Well spit it out!"

'The track office has been robbed. The prizes, the entry monies, everything. Completely looted.'

Gadget sighed.

"Tell him we'll be back in as soon as this race is over."  
She tapped her fingers on the wheel.

"Somebody really wants this thing shut down. We'll have to compare notes with the guys, and see if they came up with anything."

Meanwhile, Sugar Ray deposited two large cash bags on a table, spread out before his employer.

"Impressive, huh boss?"  
"That is the word, my malfunctioning minion. Without the prize monies, there will be no point to these ridiculous contests continuing. Which means that I will be able to complete stage two of my plan."

"Stage two?"  
"Of course, you fool! Do you think I'm doing this simply for the theft of one small, paltry sum? There is much more at stake here than even you realize."

The lizard had a confused expression on his face, and the boss growled.

"Why must I always be assaulted with insufferable twits?"

"I dunno, boss. Want I should find out?"  
Sugar Ray ducked as a drinking glass sailed by his head.  
"Out! Get out of my sight!"

He slithered out the door, closing it as another glass crashed against the inside surface.

"Geez, what a grouch."

Back inside his office, the hulking rat seethed silently. Hitting an oversized switch next to his desk, he was able to observe a monitor built into the wall. On it was an image of several cars, all in different positions. His own entrant had the transmitting camera built into her car, enabling him to watch the races from a bird's eye view. And he didn't like what he saw.

Ahead of his car, the rear end of an orange Charger was clearly shown, and the car was, without a doubt, in the lead. Turning on a small radio, he called in to the occupants of his own car.

"Ladies, I spy a problem up ahead of you. What say you…take care of it for me, hmmm?"

The answer crackled back to him in a few seconds.  
"Sure thing, Frankie!"

"I told you never to use my name! And besides, it's FRANCIS!"  
"Whatever you say, boss," she gulped, shifting down to another gear. As the driver accelerated, the back bumper of the Charger loomed closer and closer. She hit a switch on the dash, and a projectile extended from underneath her car, ready to home in.

"Time to fry some rodents."


	8. Chapter 8: Flat Out

**Chapter VII: Flat Out**

Something had been bothering Chip ever since talking to Frieda. Something about this entire case just...just smelled rotten. That was the only way he knew how to put it.

"There's more going on here than just somebody trying to sabotage a racetrack."  
Monty looked up from the Rangerwing's wheel.

"Wot else could it be, Chippah? Somebody's got a grudge against th' tradition, it looks loik t'me."

"That can't be all of it, Monty. It just doesn't make sense. There's been too much careful planning…too much stealth and subterfuge. And for another thing, there's been too much injury and danger caused by this thing. I doubt that anyone around here would try to actually kill people they've raced with for years, just because of a competitive grudge. I haven't seen any evidence of that. There's something else here…I just can't put my finger on it."

"Well I hope you figure it out fast," Dale complained. "I'm tired of not havin' any fun."

"Now Dale, me lad, you know that casework isn't all fun an' games, roight pally? Sometimes, there's gotta be some work."

"I guess so. Doesn't mean I have to like workin', though."  
Chip rolled his eyes.

"When did you ever?"

"You take that back!"

"Will not!"  
"'Ere we go again," the elder Ranger grumbled.

"Gadget, have you noticed that car behind us?"  
"Hmm? Oh, you mean number seventy-two? Now that you mention it, she has been running a little close for the last mile or two."

"A little too close, if you ask me. This is making me nervous."

Gadget glanced into rearview mirror, her eyes narrowing.

"You're right…something's up."

She looked up ahead, calculating the road's contours and vectors mentally.

"How far is it to that cutoff you were talking about?"

"It's just ahead on the right."

"Good. Let's see just how serious our problem is."

As the road forked, Gadget floored the gas, twisting the Rangerbolt's steering wheel sharply. The tires kicked up geysers of dirt and small rocks onto the car behind them, as the Charger veered off onto the opposite road.

In the pursuing vehicle, the air inside the cabin was turning blue.

"They wanna play cat and mouse, huh? Well, two can play at that game."

The hit-driver's car was a modified roller skate, with a roll cage built over top, and various hidden technology installed along the bottom. Part of that technology was the obvious missile that was protruding from underneath, ready to release as soon as the Charger was in range.

"Gadget, they're getting closer!" Tammy said, sounding a bit frantic.

"I know, I know! I'm working on it."

The mouse dodged around a fallen tree, and into another, more dense piece of forestland. In the distance, a canebrake was coming up fast. With a devious smile on her face, Gadget shifted down, and headed straight for the obstruction.  
"What are you doing!"  
"Just watch. I want to see them get through this."

The Rangerbolt plowed into the cane, it's front ram snapping stalks of the tall plant like twigs. The outside world rushed by in a blur, as the speedometer inched upward…eighty…ninety…one hundred…

Behind, their pursuer was getting more than a little bit agitated.

"Okay, no more miss nice-guy."  
She tripped a switch under her dashboard, triggering an ignition beneath the car.

Gadget clung to the wheel for dear life as an explosion erupted near the Rangerbolt's right side; the Charger bucked like an angry horse, the right wheels slightly leaving the ground.

"I don't know if I can avoid many of those."

Both Rangers cringed as another rocket blew away several stalks of cane ahead of them, raining the burning bits down on their roof. They burst from the cane grove in a cloud of engine exhaust and burning wood chips, the skate hot on the 'Bolt's rear bumper.

Gadget looked ahead. The main road would be coming up in less than a mile. If they got back to the straight gravel, they'd have no chance…and be sitting ducks.

"What are we gonna do?" Tammy asked. She was a pretty cool head normally, but the squirrel was very plainly scared by this point.

"I—I don't know! They're sticking like glue!"

Tammy glanced around them, looking for any escape. Normally, Gadget was the one who came up with the plans. In the heat of the situation, though, it was the youngest Ranger who came up with one.

"How good are you with your fists, Gadget?"  
The inventor wasn't amused by the inquiry, dodging another explosion.

"What kind of question is that? We can't even get near them without getting blown to smithereens!"  
"I have an idea. Can you turn this thing over nice and easy?"

"What! Are you crazy, we're trying to--"

"Flip it over! Just don't kill us!"

With a sigh, Gadget aimed the right-side wheels at a rising embankment.

Back in the skate, the driver's companion pointed ahead.

"Look at that!" she yelled. "They're out of control!"

In front of them, the orange stock car crunched against the roadbank, and tottered onto two wheels, flipping onto it's side.

"Now we've got 'em!"

The two would-be assassins pulled off of the road, climbing clear of the protective cage that wrapped around their vehicle.

"Say, Rhonda, you think the job might've gotten done for us?"  
"I dunno, Trixie. Let's see what we've got."  
The Rangerbolt lay perched on it's side, the left wheels still spinning in the air. On the ground, a mouse and a squirrel lay slumped against the grass, where they'd obviously crawled through the window, and collapsed.

Rhonda looked at her companion with a crafty smile.

"Don't look good, does it? Still, we'd best check."  
Teeming with happiness at her good fortune, the tall mouse began to bend over toward her intended victims, while her friend did the same.

In a flash, the situation reversed itself.

"Now, Gadget!"

The two Rangers opened their eyes, and launched themselves from the ground at their attackers.

Gadget was about evenly matched against Rhonda, but Tammy was having a little trouble with Trixie, who neatly flipped the squirrel over her shoulder.

"Oh boy, this is going to be fun," the younger crimefighter groaned.

Rhonda threw a rather expert punch that caught Gadget off guard, staggering her back against the car. The mouse mechanic rubbed her jaw, wincing.

"Golly, you're stronger than you look."  
"You have no idea. Never underestimate yer adversary."  
"I could tell you the same thing!"  
She lashed out with her foot, catching the other mouse in the knee. As Rhonda went down, trying to regain her balance, Gadget balled her fists together, and brought them down as hard as she could at the base of her neck. The bigger mouse dropped like a rock.

"So much for that," she panted. "Tammy, how are you doing?"  
"Tell you…in a…minute!" was the reply. The squirrel was on her back, trying to pry a set of determined paws from around her neck. Gadget's question distracted the other fighter for just enough time, and Tammy brought her hands together against Trixie's ears with a resounding POP! The mouse's eyes crossed, and she passed out cold.

"Now I'm fine."

"Good work there. I didn't know you could do that to a mouse."  
"Neither did I, but it was the only thing I could come up with."  
She looked down at the two female thugs.  
"So, what do we do with these two?"

"First things first, we've gotta get the car back on four wheels. Give me a hand."

With Gadget pushing against the hood, and Tammy against the roof, the Rangerbolt slowly tipped back onto the ground. Gadget, worried about the car's mechanical aspects, reached through the window, and turned the key.

The engine coughed, and began to rumble, roughly but steadily.

"Geez, you can't kill this thing," Tammy laughed. "Right, so now what do we do with the Pointer Sisters here?"

Reaching behind the driver's seat, her friend pulled out a bundle of bungee cords, and threw a handful to Tammy.

"Watch and learn."

Several minutes later, they dashed onto the main road, their shortcut having earned them a place near the front of the pack, in spite of being harassed by the two hired-hoods. Gadget was obviously disappointed; it was clear that they weren't going to win by any stretch of the imagination.

"Look at it this way, Gadge. At least we might come in third."

"That's not like first."  
"Well, you can't be first at everything you know."  
"No, but I can sure try. Dad always said to do your best at everything possible."  
"Wise man, your Dad."  
"You don't know the half of it."

Gadget kept the gas floored for the rest of the race, driving the best she knew how. And ultimately, when the Rangerbolt crossed the finish line, it was indeed in third place. The two tired and battered racers climbed wearily from the windows, to receive the small cup that went along with the position.

The overseer of the races, an old graybeard groundhog, presented the girls with the small silver trophy.  
"You ladies did real well," he smiled. "Congrats! Third place for one race ain't bad, even with the winning streak you've had."

"Well thank ya'll," Gadget drawled demurely. "We're just glad we placed, y'know. Didn't figure this little streak here'd last this long."

"Well, you two'll do better in the final laps on Friday. I know ya will."

Tammy leaned over and kissed the oldster on the cheek.

"Thank y' kindly, sir."

"Well—well now, I gotta be getting 'bout my duties! Racin' official an' all, ya know! Good luck!"

As the embarrassed 'hog waddled away, Gadget gave Tammy a reproving look.

"You're getting so far into character, you're almost underground."  
"So? It gives me a chance to practice for auditions to the park's playhouse next month."

"Why Tammy! I never knew you were an aspiring actress."

"Aspiring is right. But you know what they say. Practice makes perfect."

"Too true. Come on, we'd better get to our campsite. I've got to get Rob to help me go over the 'Bolt, we took some hard knocks out there. We'll catch up with the guys when they get back."

"Sounds like a plan. When's Deputy Redbark supposed to be here to pick up the…um, package?"

From inside the trunk, loud yelling and thumping could be plainly heard. Gadget slammed her fist down on the decklid.

"Quiet in there!"

The shouting continued, and Tammy rolled her eyes upward.

"Think we ought to let them get a little air? Maybe ask a question or two of our own?"  
"Sounds like a winner to me!"  
She cleared her throat and reached up, mussing the front of her hair so that it stood out wildly. Tammy shot her a curious glance.

"What are you doing?"  
"Getting ready for my tough-guy routine. I've watched Chip and Monty all these years…I just hope it's paid off!"

"Oh please…"

"Just you watch. Throw me the keys."

With a flourish and a practiced scowl, Gadget threw the trunk open, taking in the rumpled figures and malevolent scowls that were inside.

"So, you wanna get out? Well come on. Out!"

"How can we get out when you've got us trussed up like turkeys! Cut these cords loose!"

"Nothin' doin', ladies. Now then, how's about we talk a spell about who hired you…an' where ya got the fancy machinery."

Rhonda and Trixie stared up coldly.

"No way, sister. We got paid well enough. No way we're gonna turn in th' hand that feeds us."

Gadget was silent, twirling the keys on her forefinger.

"Hmm. Well, maybe you'll talk to the RAS special agents when they get here. They have ways, ya know."

Trixie gulped, looking over at her partner.

"Hey, uh, Rhonda…maybe we oughta tell somethin'. I've heard stuff about them 'special agents'."  
"Shut up, Trix! They ain't gonna call in nobody like that. They're just a coupla country gals like us, out to profit off this."

"Oh, are we? Do you two wanna take that chance?"

Rhonda began to look nervous, glancing around at the gathering crowds.

"Are those…RAS fellas already here?"

Gadget chuckled evilly.

"You never know with PI's…they can be anywhere."

"Come on Rhonda, we gotta give 'em somethin'!"

The tall, brunette mouse shifted uneasily in her seat.  
"All right. What do we get if we tell ya what we know?"  
"A promise of a fair trail for what ya did out there today. I dunno what else you've got on your record, but that just goes for me."  
Rhonda nodded.

"Fair 'nough."

The story that developed over the next few minutes surprised Gadget. More to the point, it flat out scared her. Rhonda didn't know exactly who she'd been working for, but from the description of his appearance and speech, she knew in mere seconds.

After Redbark had led the two handcuffed mice away, Gadget walked alongside Tammy toward the pit area.

"I don't get it. What does a spy want with a racetrack?"

"Beats me," the squirrel Ranger replied. "When are Chip and the guys due back?"  
"Should be any time now. If it really is Francis, then we'll have to lay plans, and be extra careful!"

"No kidding. Didn't he almost fry you guys with a laser the last time you met up?"

"Don't remind me. I had split ends for a month after that. Not to mention the time it took to wash off all that stupid eye shadow."

"I still say you look good with a little foundation and blush."

"Tammy, let's not go there again."

"Tam!"  
The overjoyed cry came from the campsite, and a furry missile shot from one of the tents. Tammy found herself swept up into a tight embrace, and a kiss that made her head spin.

"Reg…for heaven's sake…let me breathe!" she laughed.

The warrior of Redwall colored slightly.  
"Sorry, Tammy. I was just so worried…we heard about what happened during the race. I wish I'd have been there."  
"We're okay, Reg. Really, we are."  
"Are you sure?"  
She brushed a finger against his lips, shushing his mothering manner.

"I'm fine, Reguba. Trust me."  
"I do, Tam. I do. But when all of this is over, I need to talk to you."

Gadget watched the exchange with suppressed emotions. If Reguba wanted to talk about what she thought he wanted to talk about…

"Golly, we're gonna need a bigger tree," she muttered as the Rangerbolt was rolled under it's shed.

From a perch high in the emptying stands, a mysterious figure in an oversized trenchcoat peered down at the undercover critters.

"Curses. The girls let them get away…and they got caught! But I think I finally know where I've seen these two before. And when the final piece of my plan falls into place, there won't be enough left of the Rescue Rangers to fill a thimble!"


End file.
